|
RETURN TO HUMOR PAGE
Mammograms or, The Jaws of Life
By By Georgia Richardson
I know my memory’s fading. I actually kept my mammogram appointment.
I chose a seat next to a man and his wife in the waiting room. Both the
chairs and conversations were so comfortable that before long, I‘d
totally forgotten why I was there, and asked the man, “So …what are you
here for?” Talk about a showstopper. Dead silence just as “Nurse
Ratchet” announced my name in her best, baritone voice. I thought,
great, a name to match the idiot. I rushed past the giggles and hurried
after the angel of no mercy.
Rounding the corner, I was met with, “Hi! I’m Belinda!” This perky
clipboard-carrier smiled from ear-to-ear, tilted her head to one side,
and crooned, “Alllll I need you to do is step into this room right
hereee, strip to the waist, and thennnn slip on this gown. Everything
clearrrr?” I am thinking, “Belinda … try decaf. This ain’t rocket
science.” Belinda skipped away to prepare the chamber of horrors.
Call me crazy, but I suspect a man invented this machine. It takes a
perfectly healthy cup size of “36-B” to a size “38-LONG” in less than 60
seconds. Also, girls aren’t made of sugar and spice and everything nice,
it’s Spandex. We can be stretched, pulled, and twisted over a cold
4-inch piece of square glass and still pop back into shape.
With the right side finished, Belinda flipped me (literally) to the left
and said, “Hmmm, can you stand on your tippy toes and lean in a tad so
we can get everything?” “Fine,” I answered. I was freezing, bruised, and
out of air, so why not use the remaining circulation in my legs and neck
and finish me off?
My body was in a holding pattern that defied gravity when we heard, then
felt, zap! Complete darkness. “What the hec-?” I yelled. “Oh,
maintenance is working. Bet they hit a snag.” Belinda said as she headed
for the door. “Excuse me! You’re not leaving are you?” I shouted.
Belinda kept going and said, “Oh you fussy puppy; the door’s wide open
so you’ll have the emergency hall lights. I’ll be rightttt backkk.”
Before I could shout, “Stop! No!” she’d disappeared.
And that’s exactly how Bubba and Earl, maintenance men extraordinaire,
found me; half-naked, and parts of me dangling from the Jaws of Life.
After exchanging polite “Hi, how’s it going” type greetings, Bubba (or
possibly Earl) asked, to my utter disbelief, if I knew the power was
off.
Trying to disguise my hysteria, I replied with as much calmness as
possible, “Uh, yeah—yep, sure do, ah, thanks.”
“You bet, take care,” Bubba replied and waved good-bye as though we’d
been standing in line at the grocery store.
Two hours later, Belinda breezes in wearing a sheepish grin and making
no attempt to suppress her amusement, she said, “Oh I am soooo sorry!
The power came back on and I totally forgot about you! And silly me, I
went to lunch. Are we upset?”
And that, Your Honor, is exactly how her head ended up between the
clamps.
Southern humorist, Author,
Speaker and Gabologist Georgia Richardson, or Queen Jaw Jaw,
currently writes a monthly humor column for The National Association
of Baby Boomer Women (NABBW) and BOOMER Magazine. She’s been
published in Woman’s World, Shoals Woman, Guidepost online,
GRAND magazine, Chicken Soup for the Soul Magazine, and a
host of other online and print publications.
Her debut book, A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Throne,
consists of every day life experiences with just a twist of the
imagination. Her second book, Pink Jasper- Gems from the Journey,
was written by Georgia and five other women across the United States,
Canada, and England and … they’ve never met. Her third book is scheduled
for Fall-‘07. Visit her Queendom
www.queenjawjaw.com.
RETURN TO HUMOR PAGE
|
