What’s one of your least favorite things? Mine is mammograms (i.e., two breasts = plural grams). Jesus Christ.
It rained all day but I had seasonal errands to run—Xmas gifts and the like—and eyeglasses to pick up and a level to buy, so I struck out early into the wild and managed to miss lunch. I thought I’d have time to scarf down some McDonald’s before my appointment but boy was I wrong. So I left my cheeseburger and small fry in the car while I went in to get squeezed.
I don’t know. Some people (women) don’t seem to mind this procedure but it makes me tense up and panic slightly, which only elongates the process since you are instructed to both relax your shoulders and hold your breath. For some reason I don’t take instruction well under duress, either, so the technician had to spend a lot of time placing my arms and chin in the right places while I passive-aggressively ignored her. Plus she had to go in four times on one side today because, and I quote, “Your breast tissue kind of recedes right there.” I didn’t know what that meant and I honestly didn’t care. I just can’t believe there’s no better system in place for this. It’s 2016, dummies! Wait, that’s not right. But still: figure it out already.
After the mammos I sat in my car in the rain in the empty parking lot of this suburban women’s health center and ate a cold cheeseburger and cold french fries, and then I went to get groceries. When I got home I installed a stupid shelf above the TV, to the tune of Holiday Traditions, sweat, and swearing, and then I sat on the sofa and cried for a while out of exhaustion and a little good old fashioned self-pity.
It’s been a day, man, I’m not gonna lie. Pretty happy about this shelf though.