Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Boobs, boobies, ta-ta's, bumpers, bazookas, cans, the girls, melons, hooters, jugs. Whatever you call 'em, mine are getting their 2nd annual squishing and torture by a smashing machine and a chick in colorful scrubs aka the mammogram tomorrow at midday.
As you can tell, I'm siked. Not that last year, which was my first, was so terribly bad. It's just that now I know what's coming and let's just say I didn't take into consideration the monthly timing vs. squash-a-thon ratio. When I made the appointment the lady on the other end of the line, who apparently had no sympathy for me whatsoever, asked if I wanted a morning appointment, afternoon appointment or first available. Since I'm firmly against anything before noon, I selected the afternoon appointment. I've even got Asher on the sleeping in gig. As a matter of fact this past New Year's Day I got him to sleep in until 11:45 am! Of course he didn't go to bed until 2:30 am, but that's another bad mom story. I know this will end in about 8 months when full time kindergarten starts, but I'm taking advantage of it. Oh dear, I'm getting off point.
Oh yeah, back to the twins. Which in my case is fraternal twins since one is what I would consider quite larger than the other. I have everything like that it seems. I measured my ears once and the left ear is three quarters bigger than the other! Have you ever taken a mirror up to half your face to see what you would look like if you were symmetrical? You haven't?!! ha ha! I can't be the only one... I may have to chock that up to another one of my quirky traits. Here I go again, off subject. Anyway... she also had me a bit alarmed when she asked if I wanted an appointment to find out my results or have them mailed to me. I'd rather just forget the whole event... ignorance is bliss kinda thing. But I know the wondering would catch up with me, but I did opt for the mailing scenario in hopes of getting out of there sooner.
I've got so many boob stories. As a matter of fact my friend Amelia and I were walking through Walmart the other day and chatting about how we each hate to buy bras and we were just talking out loud and matter of fact. She said something like she had to wear underwires and I said I needed guide wires, that these puppies were headin' south and the man who was walking in front of us suddenly veered off in another direction and quick. He obviously had been listening to us. Serves him right. If you're going to eavesdrop, then don't be squeamish or shocked by what you hear!
Isn't it funny how as young women, girls really, that we are so embarrassed by our bodies? Well at least I was. Come to think of it, I'm still embarrassed but for different reasons! I remember my mom buying me bras and wrapping them up for Christmas presents for all the family to see me open... talk about being mortified. She just looked at me like what's the matter with you?! ha ha ha... those were the days.
So, send me well wishes and your thoughts for good results as they hand me my boobs on a platter with butter and syrup tomorrow. Better safe than sorry.