Saturday, February 3, 2018


Smashmogram is the nickname I lovingly refer to as a mammogram. A torture device used on women's breasts invented by a sadistic man...OF COURSE. If the inventor tried the machine, smashing his private parts I bet he wouldn't like it either and wouldn't do it a second time.

It's not only the pain, it's the indignation of bearing the 'girls' in all their splendorous glory to a total stranger to be manhandled. And not just manhandled by a pair of impersonal gloved hands, but lifted, squeezed, tugged, and finally smashed.

I commented through gritted teeth to the technician when she had my right boob in a vice grip, "Wow, talk about high and tight."

I mean it's like she thought scraping my rib cage with that dang contraption wasn't close enough. I'll have bruises for a weak!

Worse is the fact that the technician can't just plop them on a shelf, smash them once and snap the picture. No! That would be too easy. It's repeated torture. Three different views, three different smash sessions PER BREAST.

Torture. Pure and simple.

But...I am grateful to my OB/GYN for betting me that I wouldn't go. Cuz, yeah, that made me have to get the dang event over with.

I am also grateful to the evil man, Albert Solomon, the inventor of the mammogram machine to help with the early detection of breast cancer and saving many lives and boobs. Even if it is through a modern torture device.

I thank you for the torture of the TA-TAs.

What are you grateful for today?


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