Sometimes I'm a Boob

There are a lot of urban legends out there, even in LDS culture. For those of you who aren't familiar with Mormons or our ways, we don't have a paid clergy, and the "sermons" are given in the form of talks by the general membership of the congregation. For the most part, these are prepared, and assignments come from the bishop or one of his counselors. Often, there is a meeting theme, and everyone speaks on a subject relative to that theme.
Anyway, once upon a time, my friend Rick said he heard about this happening in a meeting, but for all I know, it might just be one of those stories that gets passed around.
So there was this lady, giving a talk in church one Sunday on the occasion of her son going out on a 2-year mission for the church. Apparently this sister got super emotional and couldn't really control herself for several minutes. She just sobbed into the microphone and gasped and cried like a maniac. Finally, because it was becoming rather uncomfortable for everyone in the congregation, her bishop came to the podium from his seat on the stand, and put his arm around the lady to console her a bit. She managed to smile an embarrassed smile and say into the microphone in front of her, "Oh, Bishop, I'm such a big boob." And this good bishop, in attempt to comfort her replied, "Don't worry, Sister. The bishop loves big boobs." MWHAHAHAHAHAHAH!
Like I said, probably an urban legend, but it seems like an appropriate start to this post, which is mostly to say I survived the annual exam. Or half of it, anyway. Because I'm not, nor have I ever been, sexually active, they didn't make me have the pelvic exam. Of course, everyone in the doctor's office looked at me like I was stupid and reckless with my health and what not, but SERIOUSLY. I just couldn't do it. And my primary doc told me all I had to have was the breast exam, so that's all I had, and the experience was traumatic enough on its own. Or at least the anticipation was.
Last night, I couldn't sleep because I kept having nightmares about it. I'd dream the nurse practitioner would come in and scream, "There's nothing I can do for this woman" because I was crying and screaming because I didn't want anyone looking at or touching me. When the time came for the actual appointment, there was at least the comic relief of the nurse taking my vitals lectured me on the need for a you-know-what, and I said that because that particular test is for HPV, I didn't need one because I'd never had sex. She said, "And how old are you?" I think I must look younger than 28, because when I told her that, she dropped her pen. "Never?" "Nope," I said, smugly. Then she asked if I had a boyfriend.... Maybe she thought I liked women or something. Who knows? I told her no boyfriend, just a boy I kiss and date, but it's not very serious. And she said, "Wow. Good for you. I've NEVER met such an old virgin before." Um, thanks? I didn't really know how to respond to that.
When the N.P. finally came in (and why are hospital rooms so cold? That backless gown is not much to keep a person warm), I started to tear up because I was so nervous. But it didn't really last long, and neither did the b. exam. But I will say this-- ouch! Can't even imagine what a mammogram is gonna feel like, because fingers? OUCH! At first I couldn't help but laugh because I'm so uber-ticklish, and I'm certainly not used to having someone else touching me. So she said, "Oh, no problem, I'll just push harder." Ouch again. So my chestal region is a little sore, but hey, at least I don't have to do that again for another year, and I can feel extra smug as I save my pink Yoplait lids and what not.
Last night, I ditched choir because I was too stressed out. First, I'd visited a friend in the hospital (and let me just say that she's got it WAY worse than I do), and then I realized I was gonna be about an hour and a half late to the rehearsal anyway, so I just skipped out and went to Jeff's so he could distract me. He did a good job, and I'm happy to say his roommate is nice and his couch isn't as ugly as I thought it would be. I actually liked it. J and I did a little bussing to take my mind off the impending exam, which might be a little backsliding as we really are just friends, but it was helpful. Nice enough to take my mind off the impending doom, but not so involved that my head is full of fluff and hearts and rainbows and unicorns today. This also probably makes me a bad person, but kissing is just so good for one's well-being. I'm pretty convinced that few of us are doing enough of it.
Anyway, my boobs are sore (bad) and my lips are swollen (good) and I'm ready to put it all behind me and get back to payroll. How's that for clinical?