I find the lengths to which my dentist goes to in the name of privacy especially amusing. When I get there, I sign in and then the receptionist swoops in like a Sharpie wielding vulture using a super industrial strength espionage-proof permanent BLACK marker to blot out all evidence that I signed in to get my teeth cleaned. And good thing, because how embarrassing would that be if the world found out that I had my teeth cleaned?
After Granny Clampett escorted me to the waiting area, she directed me to disrobe from the waist up and ordered me to store my things in a locker which was approximately the size of a coin slot. And then I was given what she called a “cape” to wear while I waited for my turn in the panini press. This cape could probably be best described as the love child between a shrug and a poncho – a shruncho.
I made my way out into the ladies lounge with as much dignity as one can muster when one is wearing a Bazooka pink one-size-fits-all shruncho and facing the high likelihood of a wardrobe malfunction.
I then found myself a chair and sat down being very careful keep my arms in the folded, upright and locked position at all times. And to not make eye contact with any of the other shruncho-wearing ladies. Back when I had a dog, if I wanted her to do something she didn’t want to do or if she got in trouble, she would close her eyes real tight and shiver a little and pretend to be invisible. If her eyes were closed, no one could see her. So I tried that for a while.
And then I got bored with looking at the inside of my eyeballs and got the idea that maybe, like all the other ladies who were also pretending to be invisible, I could read a magazine.
In the center of the room was a big low coffee table that had magazines strewn all over it, so I stood carefully, making sure to keep the shruncho in place and then I nonchalantly slid over to the coffee table. With my arms wrapped around my mid-section and clutching my ribs, I leaned over the coffee table just a little to see what my choices were. Jackpot! A recent issue of InStyle! But you know what? It’s almost impossible to pick up a magazine without using your hands.
So I did a deep knee bend and swayed my back a little, as though maybe I was setting down a round of drinks. And then by flexing my wrist, sort of like a penguin, I was able to ever so carefully pluck the magazine off the table with a lobster-like grasp.
I made my way back to my chair and looked forward to numbing my mind with a little Hollywood fashion, but the second I sat down, the magazine slid off my lap and onto the floor.
Being a person whose motto is Safety First! I stretched out my leg and kicked the magazine under the chair. And then I sat very still with my eyes closed tight and shivering a little until my name was called.
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And now for a public service announcement.
Mammograms are no big deal and nothing to be feared or dreaded. It’s not terribly comfortable, but it’s not terribly painful either – or at least it shouldn’t be. Usually, they take two pictures of each breast which takes about 7-10 seconds each and it’s done. However mammograms are not the be all, end all for breast cancer detection. Do your monthly self-breast exam be aware of any changes.
A number of my younger readers reported they won’t need their first mammogram for several years but you still need to do self-exams and be aware of your breast health as breast cancer happens to women of all ages. I lost a friend to breast cancer when she was only 28.