Yes, I’ve been away for quite a while, writing on my other blog, Altadenaaboveitall.
But I have a new topic to write about that belongs here, with the teasing title of Oh Deb U Taunt.
I have been blessed and cursed with being extremely “well endowed,” as those in polite company would say. Or “man, has she got junk in her trunk” as my pole dancing pals would say. Richard Simmons exclaimed as I entered his home to interview him: “Wow, what a great chest you have!” “So I’ve been told,” I replied. Let’s just say I have to visit the Wizard of Bras to strap these babies into place properly.
Now I’m sure no one out there is crying or playing a violin for me for this embarrassment of riches. But I have reached the point where something has to go. And it’s going to be about 25% of my assets. Well, maybe that’s an unfortunate term, implying my rear and not my front. Let’s call them “my girls.”
You know how they say if you can hold a pencil under your breast you’re either too big or sagging? Let’s put that into context. I can not only hold a pencil, I can hold four boxes of pencils, a quart of milk, a bottle of shampoo, my wallet (full), a purse, a box of 32 count panty liners, my poodle (lucky dog) — you get the idea. When I go in for a mammogram they pull out the industrial size plates. “Is that all YOU?” the technician asks. Not sure who else it would be, but there you go. Pressing this much flesh between plates is anything but “natural.” Who came up with this idea anyway? You can bet if a man had his balls pressed between plates of glass and steel another method would be dreamed up in a matter of seconds!
After they compress you into a pancake for one view, they turn you another direction and do it again. And when the technician doesn’t get it quite right, you get to press that flesh all over again! I know you know what I’m talkin’ about. Can’t speak for the little girls, but when you’re my size, you’re sore for days.
I’ve also had two “scares” resulting in one biopsy and one ultrasound. All that, plus what the technician said on my last visit was the last straw: “Your skin is kind of thin underneath, does it ever tear?” Instead of poppinig her one, I vowed to vanquish The Girls once and for all.
So the game is on. Papers have been submitted for insurance. I’ll tell the whole story in chapters over the next two months. The Date of the Deed is August 7. Stay abreast!