Yep. This weekend is all MINE.
I’m not taking grooming appointments. I’m not socialising. I’m just being. I’m doing whatever I want, when I want.
I might watch Dexter (series 6) which I just got… or I might paint. Or I might create… I don’t have to decide! I can do what I want!
I have a couple of dogs to do on Monday morning but I won’t take any other appointments. I have an appointment of my own to get my tits squashed.
I figure I deserve to be selfish and indulge myself over the weekend since I’m going to be put through the wringer (literally) on Monday.
Being a woman sure is fun at times, huh? Once we hit puberty we have a lifetime of fun things to look forward to:
– wearing padded surfboards in our undies
– inserting cotton plugs where no plug has been before
– stirrups… need I say more?
– cold, metal, duck bill-shaped medical instruments
– childbirth (one I’ve managed to avoid!)
Then, as if that lot wasn’t enough, we have to get our mammary glands squashed on a regular basis.
“Tell me when it hurts”, the radiographer says.
“IT HURTS”, you gasp. And he/she squishes it just a bit more for good luck.
If you didn’t have saggy breasts before that, you surely will afterwards.
Personally, I always worry about them popping. I mean, that’s a lot of pressure. What if they explode? Like a balloon… or… more like… a melon!
Don’t think about it.
It’ll only upset you.
So… what other fun stuff have I got to share?
Romeo threw up last night.
They all ate their food and then Romeo and Montana started playing in the living room. I knew it would end in tears, so I kept yelling at them to “stop it!” and “settle down!” but did they listen? No. They kept playing till eventually up it came.
There’s nothing quite like the sound of a dog hacking up his meal to get a person moving. Fast. I was up off that chair and running before it hit the ground.
It wasn’t too bad. It was only part of his dinner. Like I measured it, to evaluate whether I needed to re-feed him.
I was so angry I hurled accusations at them, pointed fingers and swore as I mopped it up. Our carpet is way beyond repair…
Amazingly they settled right down. Wayne came in and they looked so guilty and chastised he could tell they were in trouble right away.
Now, that was a way better subject than mammograms, wasn’t it?