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Cutie pie print!! #streethues #huebabe

La Machine....

Betty should really name her machine something fun. Any ideas?

So, the tech takes a front shot of both girls and then...

turns it on an angle. That was slightly more uncomfortable and awkward, I must say. It pinched my underarm a little...but it was definitely bearable. We had to do this one a couple of times to make sure she got it properly.

Hello Betty!

This is the unbelievable, incredible Betty. Not only was she playing classic rock, but when asked if I could take her picture to document this historic event in my life, she said "This is a first, but whatever floats your boat!" in a thick Jersey accent. It was her idea to put her arm around the machine and cuddle up. Betty then proceeded to explain EVERYTHING in great detail. She told me that she would crank the plate down very sloooowly and I should tell her when it's too much and she would stop! I was stunned. She also explained that the tighter it was, the more they can see and I should try and butch up a little. She then positioned me and maneuvered my C cup around on the metal plate on the bottom til it lined up properly. It's kind of a weird sensation, I gotta say. Like my boob was a loaf of bread dough. "You must have seen a lot of-" "Thousands. Every size, color and shape!" So then, she began the cranking process. And folks? She wasn't lying. She was slow, gentle and amazing. And she always checked in to see if it was too much. I actually got a pic of that exact moment when she ran back (and she ran to avoid giving me more discomfort) and punched the button, but I'll spare you.

Pretty Girl!

After about 20 minutes of sitting with Tim drinking coffee (big mistake because I wasn't allowed to wear deodorant and the coffee made me schvitz up a storm- but don't think I didn't have some deo in my bag to slather on immediately following this thing, because you know I was schlepping Secret Solid) in the waiting room under the giant enamel-painted blooms and prattling nervously about nothing whatsoever, they called me up. I went whining, let me tell you. I immediately announced to the Mammo Mama (the technician) Betty (natch) that I was terrified. She said to me, "Don't worry I'll take real good care of you! I'll be real gentle." Right. I threw one last fearful glance over my shoulder to Tim, who wished me luck and went back to his book. Betty took me to a little dressing room in the back, where I slipped into my fabulous Mammo shirt.

How cute do I look? And such a trendy color....

Objet d'art?

Look! Look! Waiting room art is so fantastic...

Tim's expression says it all. It's Flower Time!

Hilarious. I would have laughed out loud, shrilly and nervously-but I stopped myself.

With a Little Help from My Friends...

I am a big chicken-livered baby about pain. I mean I have ZERO tolerance for it. I once dragged my dad into the room with me to help me get through a cavity filling. I was in my thirties. The blood-sucking lady at my doctor's office, also known as the "phlebotomist" which I had to google the spelling of, has to employ the "infant" needle so I don't throw up and faint onto the floor.

So because I was made this way from birth thanks again mom, I dragged my friend Tim Larimer, in the old days known as Miss Sharon Peters--

along with me to hold my hand. Mentally, because he didn't want to come in the room and get irradiated. Sweet.

Here we are about to enter the Imaging Center.

I was a bit nervous also because I had already called and cancelled my appointment once. Originally it was scheduled for Yom Kippur-which I thought may be somewhat appropriate seeing as it is the day of atonement and all, and I could torture myself. Naturally, I had to get into a dialogue with the receptionist about how barbaric it was that we can put people on the moon and yet haven't progressed past squishing our boobs between plates as the only option for cancer detection. Then I begged them for just an ultra-sound, which they refused (rightly so) because it wasn't ordered by my Doctor. I thought for sure they had made a note about my neurotic diatribe to warn the rest of the staff--as I did this to them twice. But they were very nice! Why does Tim look more freaked out than I do?

First Things First!

So of course the first thing I did the morning of October 3rd, was carefully choose my outfit. A nervous girl has to dress like she means business, right? Like this chick…

I’ll bet Xena Warrior Princess gets mammograms all the time without a single snivel. Love/hate her…

Well, I suppose I found my own version of Xena armor hanging around in my closet-here’s what I ended up with:

Note red power lipstick, (MAC Ruby Woo in matte finish), kick-ass Frye boots, and shark tooth earrings for extra strength…

Oh and my fake glasses so I could feel smart AND brave.

I’M READY! (kind of)

How I Lost My Mammo Virginity

No no no, this isn’t me. But Happy Breast Cancer Awareness Month! In honor of this very important October, I shall be chronicling my very first mammogram appointment EVER, October 3rd, which I carefully documented. And without revealing my age (a true lady never does), let’s just say I’m a teeny bit overdue. I had avoided making that appointment for awhile, because some ladies (thanks mom) had told me it was incredibly painful (I believe the phrase “I almost passed out” was used), and I’m a big, blubbering chicken when it comes to doctors and dentists and healthcare in general and always have been. My mother will attest to that, if I let her!

I also rationalized my irresponsibility to myself with the fact that breast cancer hasn’t made an appearance in my family. WELL. Come to find out—who cares! According to varying stat sources, more than 70% of women that get breast cancer have no history of it in their families. So there is no good reason to blow this off.

After many tongue-lashings from friends and Doctors, I finally made the appointment.

#breast cancer #mammogram #breast cancer awareness

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