The Boob Poem
For Years and years they told me,
Be careful of your breasts.
Don’t ever sqeeze or bruise them.
And give them monthly tests.
So I heeded all their warnings,
And I protected them by law.
I gruaded them very carefully,
And I always wore a bra.
after 30 years of absolute care,
My gyno, Dr, Pruitt,
Said I should get a Mammogram,.
“O.K.”, I said, “let’s do it.”
“Stand up here real close” she said,
“And tell me when it hurts”, she said,
“Ah yes! Right there, that’s fine.”
She stepped on a pedal,
I couldn’t believe my eyes,
A plastic plate came slamming down,
My hooter’s in a vise!
My skin was stretched and mangled,
From underneath my chin.
My poor boob was being sqashed,
To Swedish Pancake thin.
Excruciating pain I felt,
with in it’s vise-like grip.
A prisoner in this vicious thing,
My poor defenseless tit!
“Take a deep breath”, she said to me,
Who does she think she’s kidding?!?
My chest is mashed in her machine,
And woozy I am getting.
“There, that’s good”, I heard her say,
(The room was slowly swaying.)
“Now, let’s have a go at the other one.
Have mercy, I was praying.
It sqeezed me from both up and down.
It sqeezed me from both sides.
I’ll bet SHE’S never had this done,
To HER tender little hide.
Next time that they make me do this,
I will request a blindforls.
I have no wish to see again,
My knockers getting steamrolled.
If I had no problem when I came in,
I surely have one now.
If there had been a Cyst. in there,
It would have gone “Ker-Pow!”
This machine was created by a man,
Of this, I have no doubt.
I’d like to stick his balls in there,
And see how THEY come out!