Pulled Taffy

WARNING: This entry may contain more information than you care to know about my goings-on today. If you're a guy, you might want to be cautious, unless you're a boob man. Then you might want to stick around.

In about an hour or so, I'm off to have a mammogram. Confession: I've never had one. This is my first.

I barely have what one would classify as breasts. In fact, my breasts are the source of many a joke in my family. And yes, I laugh at all of them, because they're funny.

In truth, I have what one would probably call a generous handful. But bodacious and voluptuous I am not. That's not the point though. The point is, I'm having a mammogram (which every woman should have, right?)

So, I just talked to Bee. Here's how the conversation went.

Jay: I'm off to have my boobies squished.

Bee: Well, good luck with that.

Jay: I think after I have my boobies squished (I like saying that, by the way. It's sort of juvenile, I know), I'm going to need a treat.

Bee: Probably.

Jay: What do you get a woman who's just had her boobies squished?

Bee: I don't know. Why don't you ask them.

Jay: Well, I'm asking you, because you've had your boobies squished.

Bee: Yeah, but I never got a treat.

Jay: Well, I want a treat.

Bee: I know the one treat you won't want.

Jay: What's that?

Bee: Pulled taffy.