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Date archive for: August 2012

She's a Bad Mammograma

Do you know what I love about mammograms?

Neither do I, but I’m open to suggestions. Because my current feelings on the procedure are unaffectionate.

My friends refer to mammograms as “the boob mash” and “getting squished.” The annual exam falls into that category of medical must-dos — along with Pap smears and dental cleanings — that we work hard to avoid thinking about. Before, after, and even during the dreaded appointment, we simply banish all thoughts of it from our minds — a disciplined-if-desperate meditation on anything at all but the bootie-wearing stranger unceremoniously kneading our chesticles.

But during my recent exam, several especially awkward moments yanked me right out of my blissful bubble of denial, forcing me to confront the full-frontal affront of this fondle-and-flatten ritual.

There’s something overly cutesy about my mammogram office. Like a pediatric dentist’s, compensating with giant grins and happy hues for the misery they’re about to cause you, the receptionists here are unreasonably jaunty, the décor unseasonably pink.

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Family Car Decals

Frequently, I am confounded by the stickers that I see on the back of cars: The grenade silhouette. The TRUTH fish eating the DARWIN fish. The Calvin-esque little boy who pees on things.

Never, though, have I been so baffled by a bumper-sticker trend as I am by the stick-figure family decals that have become de rigueur on the back of minivans and leviathan SUVs. You’ve seen them: a string of cutesy cartoon characters straggling across a rear window, diminishing in size from yoga mom and lawnmower dad down through shopper teen, baseball boy and ballet girl to dog, cat, bird, and a fourth, unidentifiable beast that will only be fully realized just before you rear-end the offending vehicle because you’re tailgating, compelled to know what the hell pet they feel is worth commemorating on their Buick Enclave.

I don’t get it. Why enumerate your bulky brood with “personalized car clings”? It feels like these families are keeping score and the rest of us are losing — not only by the paucity of our progeny but because the doofs in front of us are multiplying even as they impede our path and sightlines with their colossal clan-haulers.

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