A few observations on the annual Mashing of the Boobs:
1. My mammogram occurred at the new "women's center" in Nearby College Town. In the womens' center ob/gyn services, the Breast Center, and, get this: Plastic Fucking Surgery! Because, you know, women are tits, twats, and artificial beauty. I can't tell you how much this irritates me. When my gynecologist told me last year about this new development, I wondered aloud whether they would put a plastic surgery clinic in a "men's center." She just sort of raised her eyebrows and made no comment. Look, they need to build a men's center with the pee-pee doctor, the prostate doctor, plastic surgery, hair clinic, and perhaps a re-education center...sigh. Fucking patriarchy.
2. This year, instead of scotch-taping tiny BB's to the nipples, they have a fancy new product that is so very Feminine, so Girly, it totally negated the pain, discomfort, and general feeling of angst that accompanies the mashing of the boobs:
Isn't that SO much better? Pretty pink and purple flowers on the scotch tape!? Oh my, yes. I snuck them out of the clinic because I just knew I couldn't leave such pretty, pretty nipple-BB's behind!
I just hope that, when a man needs a mammogram, he gets the flowery stickers.
Of course, they probably just give them ultrasounds on account of they'd pass out from the pain. What a bunch of babies.