Boob job! Boob job!

So we’re standing at the end of my driveway watching our children play in the street…

OK, simmer down, now: our neighborhood is surrounded by conservation land; the only cars on the street belong to people who live here, all of whom drive at a max of 2 mph. (Except that annoying woman on Stacey’s street who’s been here a million years and never wanted those newfangled stop signs in the first place. But we always know when she’s coming — you can see the flying monkeys a mile away.) Also I live on a side street with four houses on it. And the driveway is gravel, no good for scooters and sidewalk chalk. So back off, man!

Anyway, we’re standing at the end of my driveway watching our children play in the street and Stacey says offhandedly “So I’m going in for the surgery next week.” Uhhh… wha? And she looks at me with that look, like, where the hell have you been, dude? “My reconstruction! Or reduction. Or whatever.”

“Well, I didn’t know about that. You have to tell me these things!”

“It’s been in the plans forever, I thought you knew about it!”

“Well I didn’t know it was happening NOW!”

“Well, you should have!”

“Well… you broke my pink Matchbox jeep!”

“I did not, that was Matt Alford across the street, and it happened when you were FIVE! Get over it!”

So I run out for a few therapy sessions about the pink jeep and when I come back Stacey tells me about the surgery. Which has, in fact, been planned all along (I did remember that much.)

When they did the tram flap after the mastectomy, they used (as you may recall) a pound of flesh from Stacey’s tum tum to reconstruct the left breast. And although SHE (not I, she) said at the time that her tum tum was a plenty ample source, the new boob is smaller and perkier than the right. Also it has decidedly NOT been used to breastfeed two children. The other one, uh, isn’t. And has.

So, God bless health insurance, Stacey gets a boob job! Because you can’t walk around with one boob bigger than the other, oh heavens no! (Never mind the fact that perfectly symmetrical boobs come only in blister packs.) The surgery is scheduled for Thursday; tune in to The Stacey Report for all the eewy updates!

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All Clear!

OK, I am mortally offended. I wrote a fabulously informative and, if I do say so myself, very funny post about Stacey’s recent MRI check-up and mammogram. I was shocked, SHOCKED! to find that not only had it not gone up on the site, it wasn’t even saved as a draft. The horror, the horror.

So this will certainly NOT be the shining ray of genius the first one was, but here goes.

Stacey went in for her regularly scheduled MRI checkup and they found… something we’ll tell you about after this break! (Awwwww…)

Cut to commercial:

(Sound: bass line from “Sunshine of Your Love”: DUH nuh nuh nuh DUH nuh nuh duh NUH nuh…)

“The generation that swore it would never get old… didn’t. Welcome to the summer of life. And now there’s an official hair treatment of the summer of your life: new Touch of Gray from Just For Men. Lets you keep a little gray. Works gradually. Just comb in, rinse.”

Male model who was definitely not at Woodstock: “Never trust anyone over 90, haw-haw-haw!”

“Keep a little gray with new Touch of Gray.”

I’m sorry, but is that not just the stupidest thing ever? We had a little slogan contest here in the kitchen:

“Touch of Gray: Because you can be proud of getting old. Just not too proud…and not too old.”

“Touch of Gray: The hair dye that doesn’t… uh… dye your hair.”

“Touch of Gray: a little gray tells the world you’re not completely insecure… just a little.”

Your submissions welcome in the comments below!

And now we return to… The Fascinating Tale of Stacey’s Interminable Medical Tests!

Stacey had her MRI and it showed… nuffin. Well, it showed something, but just the transplanted boob and normal bodily goo and so forth. No cancer. Then she had a mammogram: same deal, EXCEPT! Stacey found out that it’s a HECK of a lot easier to have a mammogram with .5 boobage. The nurse said “Isn’t that great? All the mastectomy patients say that!”

So. That wasn’t as funny, but at least it was super-tangential… and isn’t that really why you’re here?