Boxing Boob Blooper

I appear to have had one of those Freudian moments today. Who knew I was a violent person masked behind a mellow demeanor? I certainly didn't.

Remember last winter when I had my boobie moment happening? It was the whole thing with the cyst, the biopsy, and a positive outcome that I didn't have to deal with that ugly disease that starts with a "c". Because of all of that, I had to have a six month follow-up mammogram on my naughty boobie.

Lucky me; today was the official "smash the boobie" day. I know it's a good thing, but it still isn't the most pleasant experience in the world. Truly, I would rather have a root canal - but then - you all know I've discovered a recent passion for going to the dentist. Yes, I am sick!

There I was in the room with the tech and the boobie smashing machine. She'd just completed the smashage and was getting the films ready to run across the hall to be checked. While they do that, they don't want me to get dressed in case something went wrong and a second smoosh becomes necessary.

Even so, I felt it would be okay to slip the gorgeous hospital gown back on while I waited. I was wriggling into the gown while she reached for the slides of my breast. She turned just as I jammed my hand through the sleeve. My hand connected solidly with her face!

In horror I looked at her and began apologizing profusely. Seriously, I don't like mammograms, but I don't tend to smack the people whose job it is to administer them. She laughed and said it really didn't hurt. I can only imagine how red my face was - hell, I was far more embarrassed about this than I was when she was manipulating my boob to get the perfect pic of it.

So there you have it - my first act of violence. Don't piss me off, peeps - I'm obviously rather dangerous when smashed!

Peace