I posted last week that the Leader office would close early so the office ladies could attend a mammogram party.
I got a phone call. From a reporter. KJRH-TV Channel 2 wanted to come to our mammogram party.
But it’s just three journalists getting smashed, I explained.
No problem. Erin Christy still wanted to come.
Readers of a youthful or male persuasion may not know what a mammogram is. It’s an X-ray to screen for breast cancer. It involves taking images of a part of the female anatomy that I shall call the “girls” for modesty’s sake.
(I may be indiscrete about my Facebook posts, but I’m not an Anthony Weiner.)
This smashing idea all started a few months ago.
Carolyn Estes, our marketing director, mentioned that it had been four years since her last mammogram.
I confessed that my last mammogram was in 2004. Chris Edens, our city editor, had her last mammogram before mine.
Carolyn suggested we all go together. I promised to spring for margaritas and Mexican food afterwards.
The mammogram party was conceived.
Wednesday was “Get Smashed” day.
Our absence would leave the office unattended, hence my note on the Leader Facebook page.
“We plan to have a smashing time,” I posted.
Next thing I knew, 1,150 people had read it, including KJRH.
At 2:45, we gathered our “girls,” leis, beach hats and pink flamingo sunglasses. We cruised to Hillcrest Claremore in Chris’s caddy for a smashing time.
The “girls” were all very brave during the tests.
Most women stand during a mammogram. The technician got a challenge with our group. Carolyn is short, so she stretched up on her tiptoes. I sat because the technician couldn’t reach the “girls” otherwise.
To prepare for the X-ray, the technician positions a “girl” on a tray, then lowers another clear plastic shield to flatten the “girl” out. The technician tightens the vice until you wince.
Then, you keep your chin and shoulder out of the way, and hold your breath as the X-ray takes a picture of the “girl.”
Each “girl” gets at two poses.
It’s not as bad as it sounds, at least not when the “girls” are soft and floppy like mine. No worse than getting your teeth cleaned.
After the portrait sessions for the “girls,” we met the Hillcrest marketing director. Erin and her cameraman arrived to get video of us leaving the diagnostic center.
At the Mexican restaurant, we requested a large table with a few extra chairs.
“A TV crew is joining us for an interview,” we explained.
I don’t think they believed us–until the guy walked in with the big video camera, light and mics.
Carolyn and I each ordered a margarita. Chris, the designated driver, stuck to a 3.2 beer.
“To getting smashed,” we toasted.
Carolyn told the reporter about her mother surviving breast cancer.
Chris spoke about losing her aunt to the disease.
I ate guacamole.
Our friend, Pam Bickford, joined us and grabbed the check.
We toasted and laughed about getting smashed.
“I just got it!” Erin exclaimed.
We haven’t seen the report on TV yet.
Guess these girls either weren’t wild enough for the big time or big enough for a wild time.