Today I had to be brave and go and have mines boobies
squashed flat into a machine. Flat enough to be able to put them in an envelope
and send them home. Not because I am liking the idea- no siree. But because I thought it
will stop peoples nagging me. Mostly the boobies photographing peoples. I expressed to mines Mr Husband the worry I had
of messing up the nice nurses machine with my magnetic patches for mines
arthritis. 'No worries mine little fruitcake' he said reassuringly, 'Your
boobies are no where near your magnetic patches'- I smiled happily that he
still thought my more than ample bosom still so pert- then he added 'your
boobies are down by your knees so I am sure they won't be able to pick up the
magnets on your hips!!!'. And that my friends is why he is on ward 14 and I had
to go and have mines boobies photographed all alone!
Well tis how it happened mines mammuffgramthingy and I have
to say when they tell you it is not painful they are feckin lying. Nice short
arsed nurse - 'I am Alison your receptionist today' took all my details and
carried out the Spanish Inquisition all over again to find out why I didn't go
two years ago. 'Because I didn't want to' and 'Because we all have to do die of
something' and 'Because I don't want to die healthy' didn't cut any ice with
the head shaking and tutting Alison. 'Look missus, they be my tits and I do
what I fair like with them'. She showed me in a cubicle- what a shenanigans
that be. 'Take your top off. Take your bra off (yes I had one on for decency
sake and to stop nipple burns on pavement) and put Top back on'. A few minutes
late 'I am Alison your receptionist today' put her head through the other side
of the cubicle and invited me into the 'machine' room where I was promptly told
'take your top off' again. Then taking one look she says 'Oh- okay, lift your
skirt up then'. Fortunately 'I am Alison your receptionist was just the right
height'. I wondered why they picked her, now I know because she is booby/knee height.
Then she introduced herself as 'I am Alison your radiographer today'. 'There is a woman called Alison just like you t'other side of this wall' I informed her. She never flinched. I
concluded that either there is a shortage of photographing boobies staff, or a shortage
of short people who can see boobies at knee height. Or two identical Alisons.
She needed to lift mines boobies up and place on to a machine at my chin
height. I said 'ye be needing both hands to be lifting they me ol' babbers-
they be hefty'. She slapped them on a cold slab and then squashed them in
between to bits of cold feckin glass and said 'this won't hurt a bit'. Then she
twisted them round and in different directions. Even mines Mr Husband don't be
doing that with them. Although I did have them all tangled up in me walker
thingy a couple of times at zoo last week when I was getting ready for the wrecking
ball and elephants trunk. Anyways ' I am Alison your receptionist cum
radiographer today' -well she lied. It did hurt. A lot. So now 'I am Alison
your receptionist cum radiographer today' is still trying to get her head free
from the booby machine. She said as best she could in strained and strangled
voice- 'pull your skirt back down and put your top on and have yourself a little
treat'. It never said anything about a little treat but seeing her head
squashed in there was treat enough treat for me. Oh alright ye know me so well.
I had chocolate as well. Mines poor boobies are used to being photographed but
not like this and now my poor ample bosom resembles two pancakes. I shan't be
going again!
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