For years and years they told me,
“Be careful of your breasts.
Don’t ever squeeze or bruise them
And give them monthly tests.”
So I heeded all the warnings,
Protected them by law,
Guarded them oh so carefully
And always wore my bra.
After all of these precautions
My doctor found a lump
And ordered up a mammogram
To see inside the bump.
“Stand up very close,” she said
As she got my boob in line,
“Just tell me if it hurts at all –
Ah, yes, there – that’s fine.”
She stepped upon a peddle
And I can’t believe my eyes;
A plastic plate pressed down and down;
My tit was in a vise.
My skin stretched out so far
From my navel to my chin.
My poor boob was being squashed
To Swedish pancake thin.
Excruciating pain I felt
Within it’s vise-like grip.
A prisoner of this vicious thing
My poor defenseless tit.
It squeezed me first from up and down;
Then squeezed me side to side,
I’ll bet she’s never had this done
To her tender little hide.
If I had a problem when I came in
I surely don’t have it now.
If there was a cyst in there
It would have popped – KERPOW!
“There, that was good.” I heard her say
As the room was slowly swaying.
“Now let’s do the other one.”
“Lord have mercy!” I was praying.
This machine was designed by man;
Of this I have no doubt.
I’d like to stick his balls in there
And see how they’d come out!