Pink Cooler

Once a year the gods summon us to visit that small white room, and sit on that metal pedestal called stirrups for our annual visit to check the goodies. Because of Eve we are given the uncomfortable pleasure of having our privies checked by some stranger all to find out if we are still functioning properly. One things that is true about those special appointments is that they have always remained weird, and unusual. The first time we went we shuttered at the thought that our mother would find out that the plum has been snatched from the tree. As years progressed, and we married those visits became predictable and routine. So today, at 31years of age I was caught off guard for a moment when my doctor suggested I get a mammogram. Of course I had felt it, but I'm 31. Not 4o. But 31. I do everything right. I breastfed my kids, for a year I must say. But that didn't matter. What I felt was real, and to my dismay what the doctor felt underneath my breast was also real. She left the room, and I begin to stare at the bio hazardous container. It said dispose of each day. I wanted to jump in. I wanted to dispose of this little situation. My mind went from the trashcan to the pink cooler I purchased from Loews. I thought it was cute. It was on sale, and of course I was supporting breast cancer research. I don't know which reason outweighed the other, but all I could think about was that pink cooler sitting in the garage. I hadn't even used it yet. For the first time in my life I didn't feel like a diva. I didn't feel like a Prima Donna Momma. I just felt like a woman!