Holy tatas 

Sigh. It’s June, cold weather has set in and I have so much to look forward to in the second half of the year; a colonoscopy, blood tests and boob squishing. I’ve just had my breasts woman-handled and squashed into a metal contraption, some people call it having a mammogram. After I breathed and tucked my pancakes back into my bra, I googled ‘who invented the mammogram machine,’ and surprise, surprise it was a man.

 

In Latin, mammography means ‘humiliating but necessary torment,’ and I’m sad to tell you that poor men miss out. Such a shame that the diagnostic tool for testicular cancer is not a machine that squashes testicles to the shape of a flattened cane toad.

 

Holy hell I can’t believe a female scientist/inventor in the last 50 years hasn’t said, “I can do better than this torture machine that renders boobs flat, I’m going to think up a method that is less arduous.” Yes, checking boobs is vital, I’ve already lost two friends to breast cancer, I get it, but when we have 4D ultrasound to look at unborn babies, why can’t we do better than this torture machine for women? Why can’t we get out of work good-looking model type people to feel us up, I mean force our boobs into the machine? That would be a good start.

 

I hope I get a good score on my boob test, but after breastfeeding three kids for many years, I don’t think my bosoms are going to appear in the next Baywatch film. Feel your boobies girls, or find someone hot to do it for you.

 

I Touch Myself