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Grandma Shoes
����When I was very little,
��all the Grandmas that I knew.
��walked around this world
��in ugly grandma shoes.
����You know the ones I speak of,
��those clunky black heeled kind,
��they just looked so very awful
��that it weighed upon my mind,
����For I knew, when I grew old.
��I'd have to wear those shoes,
��I'd think of that, from time to time
��It seemed like such bad news.
����I never was a rebel,
��wore saddle shoes to school.
��Next came ballerinas,
��then the sandals, pretty cool.
����Then came spikes with pointed toes
��then platforms, very tall.
��As each new fashion came along,
��I wore them, one and all.
����But always, in the distance,
��Looming in my future, there,
��was that awful pair of ugly shoes,
��the kind that Grandmas wear.
����I eventually got married,
��and then became a Mom.
��My kids grew up and left,
��And then their children came along.
����I knew I was a Grandma,
��and the time was drawing near,
���when those clunky, black, old lace up shoes,
was what I'd have to wear.
����How would I do my gardening,
��or take my morning hike?
��I couldn't even think about
��how I would ride my bike!
����But fashions kept evolving,
��and one day I realized,
��that the shape of things to come
��was changing, right before my eyes.
����And now, when I go shopping,
��what I see, fills me with glee,
��for, in my jeans and Reeboks,
��I'm as comfy as can be.
����And I look at all these teenage girls,
��and there, upon their feet,
��are clunky, black, old Grandma shoes,
��and they really think they're neat.
The Boob Poem
����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 both 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.
Author(s) unknown.
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