Look, I’m not judging anyone who goes. Honestly, if it gives you peace of mind, go for it. Wear your best “I survived the boob clamp” t-shirt. I salute you.
But for me? I’ll take my chances with self-exams and a prayer that any lump I find is just a rogue pea from dinner. I refuse to let a machine turn my breasts into pancakes for the sake of a statistic. I refuse to get a mammogram UK. And I’m okay with that.
Now, pass the coffee. And please, don’t make me talk about cyst-removal parties. I’ve already had enough excitement for one day.
