The Trog almost never discusses her personal life and with good reason. But today is different. Today I had an experience that I feel I should advocate your having too. Having turned 40, it's time for me to have a mammogram. Or Ma'am-o-gram, as I think of it. As my hero Molly Ivins said, Get. The. Damn. Test. Here's what I know: a machine is going to feel me up sometime soon, and it's going to hurt.
So here is a transcript of the conversation today as I went to sign up for this thing:
Me: Hi my name is Miss Trog and I'm here for my very first mammogram.
Schedule Lady: Uh-huh.
Me: (looking around) So where's my tiara?
SL: (smiles) What?
Me: The tiara, where's the tiara?
SL: (somewhat apologetic) No tiara.
Me: What? What kind of second-rate shoddy outfit is this?
SL: (giggles)
Ladies, get it going on. Sign up. The people in your life love you and depend on you and rely on your ongoing presence. Go get squeezed by a machine that apparently hasn't dated much. It could save you.
But I'm thinking you best bring your own tiara.
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