Necessary Torture

I know it's something I have to do every year. I know how essential it is to my health. I know how important it is for the early detection of a horrible disease. But seriously??? OUCH!!

Today is my day for the yearly mammogram and I dread it every year. The twins DO NOT like the torture. See that photo above? That plastic level flattens out boobie 1 like a pancake, which results in the most uncomfortable pinching and numbing pain sensation which you must hold for what seems like an eternity. Then they tell you not to breathe!!! If that's not bad enough, the nurse then comes over, bless her little soul, and grabs boobie 2 to position it perfectly for it's own special Kodak moment.

I'm just sayin', I've never been the kind of girl who likes to be consentually "felt up" by a stranger. I prefer a little wining and dining, coupled with some intellectual conversation in the form of foreplay, but make no mistake, there is no "play" here. I wouldn't condemn the process, as yearly mammography saves lives. I'm just anticipating the degrading, painful torture that is essential for me to be a healthy adult.

And I'm really lucky.

And, (knock on wood) I'm pretty healthy.

And I live in a country where it is socially pertinent to screen for breast cancer yearly. Heck, we even have our own month and color to help us to remember.

And I have a sister who is a survivor.

And I thank god every day for the gift of her cancer-free self.

And I will submit the twins to the torture, secure in the knowledge that greater women have stood there before me and did what had to be done.

So what if I have to spend the rest of today walking around like this: I'll take the odds on the necessary torture.