My Poor Defenseless Tit!

For years and years they told me,

Be careful of your breasts.

Don’t ever squeeze or bruise them.

And give them monthly tests.

So I heeded all their warnings,

And protected them by law.

Guarded them very carefully,

And I always wore my bra.

After 30 years of astute care,

My gyno, Dr. Pruitt,

Said I should get a Mammogram.

“O.K,” I said, “let’s do it.”

“Stand up here real close” she said,

(She got my boob in line)

“And tell me when it hurts,” she said,

“Ah yes! Right there, that’s fine.”

She stepped upon a pedal,

I could not believe my eyes!

A plastic plate came slamming down,

My hooter’s in a vise!

My skin was stretched and mangled,

From underneath my chin.

My poor boob was being squashed,

To Swedish Pancake thin.

Excruciating pain I felt,

Within it’s vise-like grip.

A prisoner in this vicious thing,

My poor defenseless tit!

“Take a deep breath” she said to me,

Who does she think she’s kidding?!?

My chest is mashed in her machine,

And woozy I am getting.

“There, that’s good,” I heard her say,

(The room was slowly swaying.)

“Now, let’s have a go at the other one.”

Have mercy, I was praying.

It squeezed me from `oth up and down,

It squeezed me from both sides.

I’ll bet SHE’S never had this done,

To HER tender little hide.

Next time that they make me do this,

I will request a blindfold.

I have no wish to see again,

My knockers getting steamrolled.

If I had no problem when I came in,

I surely have one now.

If there had been a cyst in there,

It would have gone “ker-pow!”

This machine was created by a man,

Of this, I have no doubt.

I’d like to stick his balls in there,

And see how THEY come out.