Flat as a Pancake


I don’t understand mammograms. Oh, I understand the need for cancer screenings, and in fact some people close to me have been saved by similar methods. What I don’t get is the barbaric nature of the mammogram machine itself. I do assert, however, with about 117% surety, that the mechanics of the screening were designed by a man who never had to “step up to the plate.”

I have had enough mammograms over the years to know that taking preventative Advil an hour or so beforehand helps. A bit. Not much, but maybe some placebo power?

Now you are thinking I must be a pain baby. Well, I have given birth twice; the first time I broke my tailbone, the second one was without anesthesia (not my choice). I am familiar with pain.

Boob squishing does rate substantially lower than these events on the pain scale, and is  much less in duration, but note that my breasts still hurt as I write this, one day later. Especially that pesky left one, which always acts more the rebel than the one on the right. In fact, I have the girls encased in their sling today, an unusual event when I am just hanging around the house (literally and figuratively).

If you have never had the pleasure of experiencing the boob vice, I’ll describe it to you. Your boobs, one at a time, are pulled and placed on a cold glass plate, then the top plate comes down and flattens your girls out into a pancake the size of a serving plate, if you are busty, or a saucer if you are less endowed. Discuss among yourselves which type of boob elicits more pain.

The side of your boobage always somehow gets painfully pinched, and then you must hold your breath, even when you want to scream out “F U Ann Wagner,” or whoever is trying to take your healthcare away at this moment in time.  Each boob gets two placements, and girl, do hold your breath, or you will have to repeat the process.

I guarantee if men had to do this annually, the machinery would be redesigned. I already have a great idea.  Why not have a massage type table where you gently lean your girls over into a warm vat of something like the jelly stuff used for sonograms? Figure out a way to make an image that way.

Or, how about a girl’s night out cocktail party? Throw back two or so drinks with your girlfriends, get your mammograms, and Uber on home. I think this is a great idea for breast cancer awareness month, girls watching out for each other’s girls. (Don’t start with the “alcohol consumption increases the chance of breast cancer” stuff, I’m talking one night and a couple of drinks. Life is short, lighten up!)

Flat as a Pancake is only enjoyable as background music at high school reunions.


About cherichat

No better way to get to know me than by reading my blog. It is much more the truth than you would see in person.
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