Page 101 of Darling Venom
“You can remove the gown from the back or I can untangle the knot.”
Translation: You can strip or have my hands fist bump your boobs for the five minutes it takes to untangle your straight jacket.
I cleared my throat. “Let’s skip the breast exam.”
He quirked a brow. “Have you ever had one before?”
“No.”
“I can teach you how to do a breast self-exam at home.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s a screening tool to detect breast cancer early.” He handed me a pamphlet and pivoted, opening a cabinet for something. “I’ll teach you how to feel your breasts for lumps and other abnormalities—steps four and five.”
I stared down at the shiny paper, which listed instructions. Step four consisted of an illustration of a woman lying down, fingers on her breast.
“And you’ll teach me… over my gown?” I knew it was a stupid question as soon as he spun to face me again with a fake boob in his hand, but there were no take-backs when it came to embarrassing words. “Oh. Nifty.”
For the next few minutes, he showed me how to feel for lumps, using the mock breast as an example.
“This is how you do a self-exam. I recommend performing them monthly and familiarizing yourself with the landscape of your breasts, so you’ll notice any potential changes later.”
“Okay.”
I gripped the faux boob. My turn to grope it for lumps. Problem was, I couldn’t feel a single one.
I tried again.
And again.
And again.
I hoped gynecologists didn’t charge by the hour, because I was racking up a bill here.
“Do you feel any lumps?”
“Sure,” I lied, wanting to get this over with.
He didn’t seem amused. “Where?”
“Here.” I pointed to a random spot.
“Try again.”
“I can’t feel a thing,” I admitted.
His fingers descended on mine, dragging them along the breast and pressing down. “Do you feel it now?”
“No.” I cleared my throat, distancing myself from him a bit. “Let’s just go with option C.”
“Option C?”
“The knot. Please untangle it.”
“You still need to learn how to perform a breast self-exam.”
I picked up the pamphlet again, waving it. “I’ll YouTube it.”
