Don't let the pretty lavender walls fool you.
This was no day at the spa.
I turned 40 last month and had my first mammogram to celebrate.
(I prefer a big fuck-off piece of cake and maybe some sparkling to go with it. Silly, I know.)
As much as it SUCKED, or SQUISHED, it wasn't nearly as bad as I thought, even with the added worry that this monstrous piece of machinery would cause my implants to explode.
(They didn't, as far as I can tell.)
The technician was very informative, and sensitive to my status as a Mammo-Virgin. She explained what would happen BEFORE she started kneading, pulling and molding my Girls into shapes breasts should NEVER be molded into.
As much as I would like to have expounded with witty prose about the rest of the experience from the mole and nipple markers that dotted my chest to the fact that I had the extreme pleasure of getting four scans of each boob (two in front of the implants and two behind them) all I can say is that I am glad it's over.
My results came back normal.
And while I personally like to think of them as spectacular, I will accept "normal" just this once.