Thursday, May 20, 2010

Something else a woman must bear

So there I sat, wearing the equivalent of an opened paper napkin with cap sleeves and a string to tie it around the neck. Even for an average sized lady this thing is not going to maintain her modesty. Being a well-endowed lady, wearing this thing open in the front -- as instructed -- could get me arrested for indecent exposure. So I leave it open in the back choosing to reveal my bare back rather than my front. Folks walking by the big windows in the waiting area get a bit of a show, but not as much if we'd been facing the window. The other issue I have with this particular garment is that it is about six inches long. [Just teasing -- it's probably 10 inches long -- still too short.] Now, gravity is decidedly unkind to well endowed ladies of a certain age. The inevitability of sagging seems to slip the minds of the people who make these paper tops. Soooo . . . I spend my waiting time slouching with my arms crossed over my lap to avoid making a scene. Knowing glances from sisters also waiting to be tortured is small comfort as we all assume approximately the same position or use a strategically positioned magazine. There's an odd odor in x-ray rooms. It always makes me wonder if the rays not absorbed by body parts are doing something dastardly to the air in the room. I hope it's just my imagination. The x-ray tech. is always a cheerful, slender lady in a pastel pants suit. She's very good about keeping her eyes off the subject at hand until she has to handle the subjects. Then she gently but firmly lifts and drags one's subject onto the plastic plate. She winces sympathetically while she slides the crusher down on the subject, squeezing it to seemingly impossible proportions. We both sigh with relief once the picture is taken and the vise is released. This goes on several more times since I have history and they want to get every millimeter of tissue, including my ribs, on film. Once all the films are done, more waiting commences, only this time in the over-heated x-ray room with the funny-smelling air. Eventually a doc comes in to explain what they did or did not find. After donning my civvies again, I quickly exit the building, take a few big gasps of fresh air and thank God that I won't have to go through that again for a whole year!! P.S. I admit to laughing at jokes about how men might handle it if their subject was subject to a similar test. We both know they wouldn't do it and rather accept whatever the consequences! wimps. . .


Mark said...

I'm wincing while reading this, your description is hilarious...and painful.
And your right, there is no way my subject gets subjected to that.
Stupidly, I'll take my chances.

dcpeg said...

Hit a nerve, did it?! Men have no idea how lucky you all are. Aside from missing out on this dandy little test, you can pee your names into snow!

AHEAD said...

I found this blog when searching for "woman" at google.

I love your writing,
I think I should go here often.

dcpeg said...

Greetings, AHEAD. Many thanks for your kind comment.

Foilwoman said...

I'll say it again. Mammograms get on my tits. I hate them. And as the daughter of someone who had breast cancer, I can't blithely skip them. Yuck. But it's good to get done, and I hope you had an all clear review.