“Breathe,” she said softly, and gently tugged open my blouse. Her touch was perfect as she cupped my left breast, with just the right amount of pressure in the way only another woman will understand, as she cradled the soft, rounded weight of it in her palm. The delicate skin pulled taut as she reached across and covered it with her other hand, gently and insistently coaxing and shaping…
…so she could smash the shit out of it between two squares of commercial grade plastic and light it up with a shot of radiation.
My head. All day long:
Reception: Are you interested in the new 3-D mammogram? Here’s a description. It can detect earlier for more effective treatment. It’s not covered by insurance, so it’s $60 up front.
Right Hemisphere: UNNECESSARY MEDICAL PROCEDURE!! THEY JUST WANT TO CHARGE US FOR SOMETHING!
Left: YOU IDIOT! CANCER IS BIG BUSINESS! THAT’S WHY INSURANCE DOESN’T COVER IT! WE MUST HAVE IT! TWICE! IT COULD SAVE OUR LIFE!
R: Paranoid much? Wait, did she say “up front charge?” HAHAHAHAHA!
L: *snork* Try to stay abreast, would you?
Me: I think I’ll pass this time. Next year.
R: What did we say?
L: We aren’t going to do it. We’re stupid. See? Everyone else is doing it.
R: “Everyone else” thinks that posting a meme will stop child abuse.
L: Still. Why are we wearing our running clothes? We didn’t run. We had a gallon of coffee and some pringles. We’ll never be able to nap later.
R: It’s ok. We need to write anyway. Besides, we never actually “nap.”
L: That’s your fault. It’s all you ever think about. How many bras are we wearing?? OMG. Did they make these gowns out of old hospital sheets? Blech. There’s no tie.
R: Who cares? They’re just boobs.
L: WE CAN’T GO OUT THERE LIKE THAT! The tie is behind us.
R: Why are the techs never hot?
Tech: This only takes about five minutes. Just stand right next to the platform. Breathe.
L: That tickles. This is so not sexy. Why do men think this is sexy? Ain’t nothin’ hotter than two chicks in a room full of radiation. Are prostate exams sexy?
R: Ok but remember last year she got a l’il rough? See, that’s not so bad. Wait, fuck is she doing? Twisting it? Wait –
Tech: Don’t breathe.
R: I CAN’T BREATHE!!
Tech: Ok. Breathe. Other side. Are you off work today?
R: Bow chicka wow wow. Bitch. I bet it’s fun to make small talk with strangers while you feel them up and then torture them.
Me: No, I work evenings.
Tech: Oh, is this your sleep time?
Me: No I’m usually home working right now.
L: Way to go with the “as she cradled the soft, rounded, weight” back there.
R: One of us has to be creative – remember when we painted our boobs for the Fourth thing?
L: That was terrible. OK. Princess Leia was pretty good. But the Darth Maul thing was idiotic. Who makes eyes out of those? Our own husband was afraid of us.
R: It was awesome. We totally should have done that today.
Tech: Don’t breathe.
L: Why does the right side hurt more!!!!???
R: Because it’s smaller.
L: Good thing you’re so fucking creative.
Me: *gritting teeth*
Tech: That’s it!
R: Which locker is our stuff in?
L: Why do you never pay attention? That’s not our stuff.
R: Everyone is so awkward and smiley in here. Is our gown tied?
R: That’s our stuff!
L: Don’t look in the mirror don’t look in the mirror we’ll be mad all day.
*looks in mirror*
R: Not that bad. I’d do me. *snork* It puts the lotion on it’s skin or it gets the tit clamp again.
L: Idiot. What should we write about?
R: I dunno.
L: You’re the creative one.
R: I just wanna nap.