This e-mail just arrived in my inbox. It's one of those chain things -- you know, the read this and forward it to 11 people or all your plumbing will blow up messages. And while I don't tend to pass on to friends and family these types of scare tactics, I realize that the words that follow are definitely worth a read.So I've extracted all warning and threats from the message I received, and I've pared it down to a very funny piece of prose I believe will strike a chord with women everywhere who know how very important -- and how very painful and humiliating -- the dreaded mammogram can be.
And so here it is, in all it's glory. Read it, absorb it, love it, and pass it on. Or don't pass it on. I'll be OK with your decision either way. Promise.
Go Get Your Mammies Grammed
For years and years they told me,
Be careful of your breasts.
Don't ever squeeze or bruise them.
And give them monthly tests.
So I heeded all their warnings,
And protected them by law.
Guarded them very carefully,
And I always wore my bra.
After 30 years of astute care,
My gyno, Dr Pruitt,
Said I should get a Mammogram
"OK," I said, "let's do it."
"Stand up here real close" she said,
(She got my boob in line),
"And tell me when it hurts," she said,
"Ah yes! Right there, that's fine."
She stepped upon a pedal,
I could not believe my eyes!
A plastic plate came slamming down,
My hooters in a vise!
My skin was stretched and mangled,
From underneath my chin.
My poor boob was being squashed,
To Swedish Pancake thin.
Excruciating pain I felt,
Within it's viselike grip.
A prisoner in this vicious thing,
My poor defenseless tit!
"Take a deep breath," she said to me,
Who does she think she's kidding?!?
My chest is mashed in her machine,
And woozy I am getting.
"There, that's good," I heard her say,
(The room was slowly swaying.)
"Now, let's have a go at the other one."
Have mercy, I was praying.
It squeezed me from both up and down,
It squeezed me from both sides.
I'll bet SHE'S never had this done,
To HER tender little hide.
Next time that they make me do this,
I will request a blindfold.
I have no wish to see again,
My knockers getting steam rolled.
If I had no problem when I came in,
I surely have one now.
If there had been a cyst in there,
It would have gone "ker-pow!"
This machine was created by a man,
Of this, I have no doubt.
I'd like to stick his balls in there,
And, see how THEY come out!
Author Unknown


This makes two in one week:
My mom goes for a mammogram today -- which reminds me of a time when this test meant nothing to me, a time when all I needed to know was that women my mom's age went for this procedure that squashes and squeezes and manipulates breasts so that pictures can be taken and tissue can be studied. I thought that I would be 40 years old when I went for my own mammogram and that I would casually learn that everything looked normal -- that breast cancer was of no concern. But it didn't happen this way -- instead I went for my first mammogram at age 34, six years earlier than recommended, because I felt an odd lump. And I learned that cancer was of concern. I learned that I had breast cancer. And so now, as I am about to turn 36, I have had three mammograms and will return every six months for the rest of my life for this test. By age 40, I'll be a pro.
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