{Buttermilk biscuits here we go...

slap that flour on the dough!}

Warning:  Men should avoid reading this post.

It could change everything you love about breastessez.

Please, for God's sake....

TURN AWAY NOW!!!!

And if you don't, 

just know that you

 HAVE BEEN WARNED!

For all of you who haven't hit the 40 mark yet......

An FYI:

Your insurance company will take it upon themselves to call and remind you that you are old and your body could be turning on itself, 

"so can we go ahead and schedule a mammogram for you today?"

For all of you who have hit the 40 mark and beyond.....

you already know what it feels like to have your boobs look like a cone of roadkill  under a plate of glass.

Today was my 40 year old mammagram day.

I've had a few (3) mamms in my younger years because of cysts.

The results have always come out just fine and clean of any concern.

But the last time I was in the crusher was over 10 years ago.  All I could remember from that go 'round, was that the mammy lady got my rib stuck along with my tata and pressed the plate down with such force, to the point that I was without voice trying to scream,

"OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD!"

No one heard my mime cry for help and I left with a bruise.

(although, it's not really that shocking if you know me....

I'm like a bruise-a-holic....go figure!)

Needless to say, today I started to get myself into a nervous, menopausal  hot flash right before the appointment.

"Shit!!!"  I yelled running (with my stupid boot) back up to my bathroom to apply a 3rd coat of deo and some over the top body spray.

Because I'm telling you....

NOBODY,

and I mean 

NOBODY

wants to smell anotha motha's stank!

Whew!....I felt refreshed as a field of daisies, except that I was still pouring sweat down my back and head that stemmed from the inferno inside of me.

There are just some things that a person peri-menopausal can't control, and I realized that, with only 5 minutes left out of a 10 minute drive to get to my appointment.

Oh well....I'm just thankful I took that time to put on that extra layer of pit juice!

'Better to be late than smell like fish bait' 

is what I always say!

(No...not really.  

I just barely made that up.)

I am guided into a room that is about 4 x 4 and given a gown  and instructions to wipe.

Instructions:  Take a MammoWipe and wipe off all of your deodorant.

ARE YOU CLUCKING SERIOUS????!?!?

I just ran two flights of stairs in a boot to specifically re-apply the Secret Solid which made me late and required me to speed the Banger doing 80.....

And now you want me to take it off with a MammoWipe???!!??

OK, FINE!

WhatEVER!

The boiling sweat and the boot running, had flattened my already bad 'do and made my eyeliner run to the corners of my eyes.

I'm kind of used to looking haggard these days, so not a shocker when I looked in the mirror.

But it was this reflection of the gown, the boot, and the tennis shoe, that threw me over the edge!

"So.....this is what 40 looks like!?!?"

I said to myself in disappointment.

I walked out of my room where a nice older lady greeted me.

She introduced herself and told me she would be giving me my mammajamma.  Also, she didn't want me to worry about a thing because she's been doing this for over 30 years!

And I'm like, DAMN GINA!

Then, before I knew it, that lady had me dis-robed and my right breast in both her hands.

She was molding, jiggling, and squishing it every which way.

At this point I am in shock for two reasons:

1) the sudden attention that my righty is getting by an old lady

2) the way she handles my boobies is the same as a person handling biscuit dough!

Slapping, tapping, kneading, flattening.

I was just waiting for her to try to spin one in the air like a pizza.

The whole "biscuit rolling" took only 5 minutes.

Slam, bam, thank ya mam!

This lady was gooooooood!

She was also kind and said a lot of really nice things about my teets....

cuz apparently she's seen a lot of teets and mine aren't half bad :)

I looked in the mirror one last time as I was dressing......

"So.....this is what 40 looks like"

I said to myself again, but this time with a smile on my face.

Because even if the compliment comes from a dough rollin, pizza slappin, mammagramma old lady,

it's still a compliment.

And I will take it!