Telling you this little story means I'm revealing my age, something I'm told a proper French woman should never do.
What the hell, I'm not French yet...
My 40th birthday is coming up this February. (feeling myself break out in a cold sweat - I know it shouldn't bother me, but it does - more about my emotions surrounding my upcoming birthday later)
Where was I? Oh yes.
Turning 40 for a woman usually means that exciting event we all look forward to - The Mammogram.
Wednesday afternoon I had the pleasure of spending two hours in a clinic, waiting to meet Sophie. And no, that's not the name of the doctor.
This lovely machine pictured above is Sophie. How do I know that it's name is Sophie, you might ask? Because "her" name is written in green across the top of the machine. Seriously. Just enlarge the photo and you'll see.
So I have to ask...
Why give it a female name? Is that supposed to make me feel better while "she" is smashing my boobs between "her" two compressor plates?
A side note: It was painless and absolutely necessary. Ladies, don't put off having your mammograms!