Cranky Day

You had best beware that reading this could reveal the true nature of my hidden thoughts. If you have a preconceived notion of what is going on behind my eyes then, spoiler alert!
Yesterday was a grueling march through doctor's offices and machines. Now if you are male or a young female, then you haven't experienced the joy of a mammogram. When we say we are smashed into that machine, we mean it. Clearly the whole setup was designed by someone not suffering from overendowed mammaries because you have to stand on your tiptoes while your gown is hanging off the side of you like melting frosting on an outdoor wedding cake in July. I kept wanting to scoop up something, if not my dignity, then at least some material. Now you know, by my estimation, I've had 14 of these little jewels, the tests, not my mammaries over the last 15 years and it doesn't get any better. We can tell that there was water on Mars, but no perfecting the boob smash and bash. Tell me why.......

I was politeness personified until I got back to the lobby. Two ginormous elderly species of women were waiting by the door, maybe sisters since they shared the same chin hair pattern, and pendulous sway to their mammary glands. They clearly wanted to assess the wait time for the mammogram. So in a loud voice designed to assist sister in hearing also, lady number one, asked, " Did you have a mammogram?" All 15 pairs of eyes in the waiting room swiveled my way, a hushed expectancy hovering over the room. What do you say? I always taught my kids not to lie, but they weren't around to know. Then I couldn't think of a good lie. Numerous options went through my head:
1. "no, I went back for an mri, but probably someone in the room is going to know that their spouse is in the machine and has been for an hour, and will repudiate my story"
2."no, I clean for the offices and decided to come out through the lobby door"
3."no, I was having a secret meeting with an unknown entity and who would think of looking for us in a mammography area"

I did consider saying,"it's none of your business, ye old besom!" Finally, after several seconds, I just said, "yes".

"thought so," was her yelled reply, "because the top 3 buttons are undone on your blouse, and my bra looks just like that!"
With casual elegance, I looked down at my chest. Needless to say, her hearing might have been going, but her eyesight was clearly 20/20. I took a deep breath and started buttoning, all the while hiding my gleaming, killing look behind a composed face filled with charm and sangfroid. As I finished, the sisters also finished their conversation," it can't be the same bra"," yes, it can", "ask her where she got hers", "your bra has more lace on it and her's didn't fit well". Two size 80DD old ladies were fighting over the fact that my bra didn't fit well in front of that filled waiting room. What could I do? I took a deep breath and bowed to everyone, then walked out without a backward glance thinking that there would not be a next time for this to ever happen to me again. I'm not going back for a mammo until I have lost so much weight that I have no need to wear a bra. That will take care of that problem.