Party's Over Said the Girls

Warning!!!!! Female talk coming. If you don't have the stomach for, and don't want to read my discussion of my breasts, now is the time to go away and come back another day when there's another post.

Seriously, breast talk follows. Mammograms, bras, breasts. Here they come. Consider yourself warned.

So, back to the topic at hand:

Yep, the party is officially over. With yesterday's mammogram, my personal birthday celebration came to a screeching halt. For those of you who've never had one, let me re-cap - and those of you who have, feel free to nod your head in agreement.

The office is very understated. Nicely decorated, but understated. Warm tones. Dimmed lights. All around "faux spa" I'd say. I arrived about 30 minutes early (they wanted 15). I was very excited and surprised that I got called back almost immediately.

I was shuttled to the nice little changing room where I was asked to strip off the shirt and bra, use the individually wrapped wipes to remove any deodorant (if I forgot and applied some - I had not), and asked to put on the dinner napkin sized modesty gown/cover up napkin. It was pretty and blue. It was not so much a hospital gown as a butterfly sleeved, halter top napkin. It was split completely from top to bottom, much like its cousin the hospital gown, but this halter top napkin's slit when in the front, not the back. Of course.

So, in I step to the "room" where the big machine waited. The very nice tech quickly exposed one of my "girls", hefted her up onto a very cold, grid-like platform, and instructed me to hold on to the handle. After much adjusting of Miss Left Side, the tech began moving the clear tray down. Smashing Miss Left Side. Smashing I say.

I was asked to pull Miss Right Side away from Miss Left Side with my free hand, look up, and get ready to hold my breath and be still. I don't know where she thought I was going with my left girlfriend gripped in the vice, but ok, I held my breath and remained still.

I looked down and my normally ample bosom was pressed to the size of a short stack of pancakes...very round and very flat.

After the smashing from the top, we released poor girlfriend, rotated the platform, and smashed her from the side. All I could think to myself was, "What would my husband be saying if he could see this?" It was pretty funny looking, and the thought of him seeing my girls like this almost made me laugh out loud.

Then, on to my second friend, Miss Right Side. Same thing: grab the handle, some manhandling by the tech to get her hefted onto the grid, and me giving a big pull of the other "Miss" to get her out of the way. Then, smash. Only this time, it felt like on the sideways compression that my ribs, way up under my arm, were getting pushed about. That kind of hurt, but at least it was almost over.

I swear the only reason we are given the "modesty, halter napkin" is to get us from the dressing room to the x-ray room, because I certainly wasn't covered at all during this procedure. This too is kind of funny and made me chuckle.

So, after the vice was released, I was handed a pretty white rose, asked to put my shirt back on, and was sent on my way.

Several times during the day I kept thinking to myself..."Self, this really doesn't seem like it's going to be as achy as the baseline mammogram you did when you were 35." I even thought this several times during the day.

Then, nightfall came. And bedtime. When I took off my bra, I swear my sweet, tender, lovely, wonderful friends felt swollen and hot. No kidding! And I swear when I took off my bra, all of the squeezing and mashing had caused them to hang much lower than before. I really am not kidding! I made my husband look, feel, and give his opinion. He was glad of this, but said he thought I was just imagining things on the extra droop, but agreed with the raised heat factor.

As I lay down, with my girls "let out of confinement" it started to sink in. The achy, wow why am I so sore, feeling. I wasn't as home free as I thought earlier in the day. This was true ache. Bruised even. I went back to the mirror to see if there was bruising anywhere. None. Whew.

And even today I feel like my chest has been involved with some kind of smack down. And "they" say this whole ordeal is even worse for my smaller breasted sisters. Well, all I can say is, we'll exchange notes after you've done this a few days before your impending femaleness arrives. Why didn't they warn me about this when I made the appointment? I should have known.

So in conclusion, my birthday celebration is over. With the mammogram, the girls need a rest from all of the celebrating!

Told you there would be lots of breast talk!