Hey Boo-Boo!

I read this delight from time to time when I need a laugh.

Awhile back, this Boo-Boo Cow (who is always crying about something) went for a mammogram. And they had no sooner rolled up their udders before they started shitposting about me.

I hauled ass for eight-ish hours Friday before hightailing it out to a 4:15 mammogram appointment of my own. (Second attempt — long story there.)

Or I WOULD have, but oh hello who got stuck in the elevator?

In any event, I did manage to make it there at 5. The staff very nicely did not say a word about working late on a Friday.

After being yanked and contorted and smushed and exposed to radiation, can’t say I thought about anything other than, “Oh thank God I don’t need a bra with this dress” and “Oh, yay, I DID bring my deodorant.”

In fact, it’s about 30 hours later and I finally remembered Boo-Boo. And that lone thought was, “Hope she isn’t ruining yet another vacation tweeting about me.”

I could peek, but I’m sure whatever awaits me is more uncomfortable than having to reassure the radiologist 37 times that I’m not pregnant after reassuring the gynecologist that yes I have periods and no you can’t know anything about them because, Dobbs.

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