"Don't breathe," the perky tech says as I stand there with my left lady bit gripped in a cold plexiglass vice exerting the force of a junkyard car crusher. "Oh, believe me," I reply in quick, short, desperate syllables, "that won't be a problem! Just take the picture - right now, OK! TAKE IT!" *click* Perky tech chirps, "OK, you can breathe now!" Easy for her to say with her lady parts safely tucked away from the mechanical mayhem. "And now I'm just going to move you a teensy bit THIS way and increase the pressure just a smidge!"
Listen, why don't we just go outside in February, lay my female bits across a granite tombstone, and run them over with a tractor, instead? It would be a fitting funeral for what's left of what my mama gave me.
People. We can see the lobes of an unborn baby's brain, all of our internal organs, and whether or not we're carrying anything we shouldn't on an airplane with sophisticated scanning technology. Why then - WHY are women still subjected to this archaic yearly torture ritual?
OK, so it's dense, "fatty tissue," making it harder to get a close look. Honey - that would describe my whole body, and I have yet to experience a doctor crushing my thigh in a vice just to get a look at my femur bone. Come on, now!
We are a civilized society full of brilliant individuals with all kinds of impressive abbreviations after their names. I implore one of you to find a way to tame the mammary madness.
I'm envisioning a zero-discomfort sonogram-like treatment. You know - a nice, warm gel, low lights, and a gentle scanning device. There would be a few soft mechanical beeps, some pictures, some typing, and, of course, a little small talk to ease the awkwardness of it all. The whole thing would be over in a matter of minutes, and all of our breast tissue would still be intact at the end. Just imagine it! And if you want to be sure that we'll never skip this vital procedure again, add a glass of wine, a complimentary neck massage, and some Barry White music into the mix. I cannot be convinced that I'm asking too much here.
I realize I'm presenting a lot of negatives, so let me be clear that the importance of regular screenings cannot be overstated! Of course, I encourage all of you ladies to get your mammograms. The negatives are momentary. The positives are what matter, and they have saved many lives - including my mom.
But please - let's find a better way to take care of the ta-tas because I have plenty of other things to be mad about - like underwire bras, automated customer service recordings, car warranty spam calls, and how my March Madness bracket was busted on day one this year.
Just sayin.