By Contributing Editor Jenny Isenman
Visit her blog at suburbanjungle.net
I had a mammogram this week. I have to get one every year; though mine are small there is still room for fibroids. My tech went so far as to comment on them, saying they’re “perfectly perky.” Well, she said that after laughing aloud at the thought of getting my A’s to stay up on the shelf of the machine. After getting a good chuckle she stuck on a set of stunning nipple markers, which are stickers with silver balls that resemble starter earrings.
Tech: “Sorry we’re all out of fringe.”
Me: “Don’t worry, I have some at home.”
I guess she was right to laugh. The first time on the shelf they slipped right out. The intense squeezing actually slung-shot them back towards my body. The second time she got a couple ribs on board. I’m guessing as anchors.
Me: “Um, excuse me, is it okay that you have bone in there too?”
Tech: “Don’t worry they won’t break.”
Squeeze, squeeze, squeezing harder. Shelf lifting… on my toes to avoid bosoms being ripped clean off. More squeezing. Crunch.
Me: “What was that?”
Tech: “Just a little bone. Alright, just one more squeeze.”
Me: “Fine, but I think milk might come out.”
Tech: “Oh, are you breast feeding?”
Me: “No.”
After flattening my boobs into pancakes, I felt like a cartoon victim of a falling piano or anvil. I patiently waited for them to snap back, or for an animated squirrel to come along, stick a tube in and pump them back up. Nothing, no squirrels or skunks or other well meaning rodents came to my rescue, so I shoved them back into my sports bra and went to wait for my ultrasound.
While in the waiting room I noticed a woman, not a day under 100, shakily stick her nipple markers in a plastic baggy and into her pocket book. Either there’s one kinky grandpa with a bottle of Viagra awaiting her return, or she’s like my grandma and takes everything. “You never know when it could come in handy.” Well it’s true, you never know when you’ll be at a coffee shop and they’ll run out of sweetener and you’ll need 1000 stolen Sweet ‘n Lows. You never know when you’ll be super hungry and those rolls from a bread basket that are now stale and linty from sitting in your handbag, will really hit the spot. Especially, when you have trouble chewing anything harder than soup. And if your boobs hang down to your knees, you might need a some assistance finding your nipples.
Whether you can find your nipples or not, don’t forget to get your mammogram!
About Jenny:
I am a neurotic mother of two amazing, wonderful, brilliant, perfect children which is saying a lot because I am a harsh critic and an uncompromising disciplinarian. You know, the kids have to sing for their supper kinda stuff… well, they at least have to ask… well, a grunt would be nice. Actually, they just sit and I make multiple meals until one is worthy of their sophisticated taste buds and doesn’t exacerbate their fear of burnt spots, crust, pizza bubbles, or food that touches other food. It is my job to keep them protected from the Florida sun, prehistoric insects, and plasticware with the number 3, 6, or 7 on the bottom. I have to expose them to just enough germs to build their immune system, while using little enough sanitizer to keep them healthy. I also have to remember to feed and water them daily.
A freelance writer for magazines such as InStyle and Mademoiselle, I also have a fabulously funny and relatable blog called suburbanjungle.net
“The intense squeezing actually slung-shot them back towards my body.”
