Two years ago I had the privilege of starting a tradition for women only (that part isn’t entirely true, some men do actually participate depending on their situation). Yes, I am in the prime of my life, filling my calendar every two years with a double date of sorts – one for my left breast and the other for my right.
Today when I arrived at my appointment I took my traditional hospital gown photo, sent it out to the world wide web, and then headed into the imaging room to put my breast and respective foot forward; fully ready to not move and stop breathing.
As I experienced in my first appointment, this is a completely unnatural ‘photo shoot.’ “Any implants or other items in your breasts?” the tech asked. “Nope, all organic,” I replied. “Great, let’s get started,” she said, led me to the breast platform and foot outline, then asked me to disrobe and place my left breast on the platform. After taking two images of my breast she said, “We’re done with Mr. Left, now on to Ms. Right.” “Ms. Right? Does this mean there really is no Mr. Right?” I asked. “Yes, yes it does,” she informed me. A few minutes later the photo shoot was over and I prepared to exit the room.
“You’ll get a letter in the mail from us in a couple of weeks. Shouldn’t be any problems, your breasts are easy to read,” she said. “Easy to read? Is that because they’re plump? I asked. “You don’t have any fibrocystic tissue, so that helps. I wouldn’t say they’re plump. I’d say they’re full.”
And with that, I put my breast foot forward and proudly walked out the door. Two down, at least seventeen more to go.