gettin' squirrely

When I last saw the crotch doc, she recommended that I get a bone density test, since I'm at elevated risk for osteoporosis on account of my ladyworks being gone, and a cholesterol test because I AM GETTING OLDER GODDAMMIT FTW.

Fast forward a couple of months, and I'm at Longs buying my Friday night necessities: a magazine void of any intellectual or artistic content and a small bag of Baked Lay's cheddar and sour cream chips (one of the bestest things ever, by the way, and a relatively healthy snack calorie/fatwise; if they ever come out with a salt and vinegar version, I will be happier than a puppy in dirt). As I'm standing at the checkout counter, I notice a sign saying that they'd have a variety of health screenings coming up, including cholesterol and bone density. No appointment necessary, $30 for the bone density and $14 for the cholesterol, cash or check only.

Slappy!

Today was the exciting day. I took two hours off in the middle of the day and drove to Longs, where a florid-faced man in a lab coat sat at a card table in the back. I filled out some forms, and then he pricked my finger with a lancet. Owie!

When that was done, he said, "And you wanted the bone density done too, right?"

"Yes."

"Are you wearing pantyhose? You need a bare heel for this test."

I excused myself, went to the bathroom, and tossed my pantyhose into the trash. (They already had a small snag, and cramming them into my purse alongside keys, pens, and other detritus was asking for more.) I returned to the table and presented my foot for inspection.

"Okay, now I'm going to put this conductive gel onto your ankle. It might be a little cold."

Yep.

Next, I put my foot in a contraption that looked a lot like the footbaths at the local mall's nail salon. Two hot balloony things puffed out and squeezed my ankle. It didn't really hurt, but it was uncomfortable, so I thought of other things, like how you used to be able to go to the shoe store and X-ray your own foot. That would have ruled.

Anyway, as I was thinking of those halcyon days of unrestricted radioactivity, my gaze settled upon the technician, whose face was quite a bit redder than it had been just a moment before, and whose eyes were looking down at...

...yoiks.

Yes, lady that I am, when I was daydreaming, my left knee relaxed, and without my pantyhose on, the technician got one helluva squirrel shot.

And the bastard still charged me!