Show Us Your Tits

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Fucking irony. I knew putting up a post about how fabulous I was and how I had triumphed over my old job was asking for karmic trouble, but I vaguely thought it would take longer than this. Less than twelve hours after I posted about how my old job was cracking up without me (below,) I was sitting in my doctor’s office mentioning how my nipple has been hurting for a while. After he squeezed on it (ouch,) he announced, with a perfectly straight face, that I had to have a mammogram.
Have I mentioned, or at least implied in the past, that I am a male? If not, let me make clear, I AM A BOY. Boy parts, boy plumbing, pee standing up, the whole bit. So whenever I have read stories about mammograms, I have winced in sympathy, but a tiny, unworthy part of me would still think “Well at least I don’t have to look forward to that.” Hah. In fact, hahahah.
Also, my whole adult life I have been self-concious about being so flat chested. I always longed for big slabs o’ pecs like the mens I lusted after.



Instead I look a lot like Miss Jane.

Maybe not even that good. To now go from having concave tits to googling “breast cancer, men” so very much not what I had in mind.
My research so far has turned up “Mammograms: they shove your tit between two pieces of plexiglass and mash them together. Probably hurts.” Also, don’t wear deodorant. OK, check. And try not to go during your period. Uhhhhhm, again, OK, check.
I know, I know, our sisters have had to regularly put up with this and I am a whiny putz for complaining, but I have no titties. What, exactly, are they going to mash down on? I suppose that’s just something for the techs to worry about.

About mrpeenee

A former bon vivant and terror of a number of New Orleans bars in the mad, gay 1980s, I'm now quietly retired and widowed in San Francisco. I have a crooked nose due to an unfortunate Frisbee accident.

14 responses »

  1. Maybe you're a late bloomer and are just now beginning to “bud out”. Perhaps a man-o-gram involves having your titties fondled by the handsome number pictured above.

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  2. Oh, Lawd. If it's not one thing, it's another. I'm a DES baby, so I've been through lots of unpleasant exams lower down – all sympathy to you in the upcoming plate-mash…

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  3. I too, have no pecs when I worked out. So I gave up.

    My nipples are also hard wored to immediate pain – no pleasure for me. My husband's are hard wired to pleasure. All I have to do is look at them and he gets hard.

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  4. Dear Mr. P., I have no idea how they would do a mammogram on someone who is as flat as an ironing board, but I hope the results are good ones. Or at least as entertaining as when Edina Monsoon learned her sore toe was caused by an acupuncture needle. “But I've only ever had cranial acupuncture! D'you mean. . .????”

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  5. I had one of these a few years ago. Happy outcome. It didn't hurt, but I was moved to look down during the procedure and observe. I saw a big, flat, pink man boob. But then again, I am 'ample'.

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