My boobies have turned against me. The very boobies which I’ve adored and cared for all these years.
So I had my first mammogram, if you recall from my post about being naked at work. Stop shaking your finger at me, Reader – yes, yes I KNOW it’s my 1st mammogram at 44. Sheesh.
My results finally showed up: “Inconclusive”
I called the diagnostic center for further clarification and to figure out my next steps, and I asked the lady if I should cash in my retirement and book my trip around the world. She said not just yet.
I have to go for a follow-up squishing, I hope to get in next week, before my retirement package flounders even further.
And I’ve informed Kenny that if it’s Dire Boobie News, and Bad Consequences, we shall be spending some of my retirement funds on a going away party for them. I will wear a very pushy-uppy brassier and let people poke and pet them and get a photo taken with them while they are still here. I say “they” because if one has to go, they both have to go. I can’t walk around with one giant bajonga, I’d rather walk on the wild-side of the flat-chested, see what it’s like to be able to wear button-down shirts that don’t gape open.
But seriously? Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. They still have a lot of livin’ to do.
p.s. – does anyone get the title reference?? Lemme tell ya, to stop your sleepless night… My dad used to tell a little joke, “Do you know why women don’t have hairy chests?” Answer: “Cause grass don’t grow on a playground.”