So I heeded all their warnings,
And protected them by law.
Watched them very carefully,
And 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 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 soft 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 steam rolled.

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 Unknown

But there is another Goddess of middle-aged women whom you may not know – Volcanus Nocturnus– the Goddess of Inner Fires.

This intense Fire Goddess manifests Her powers only after sunset. She prefers to let her devotees reach the alpha state of sleep before manifesting Her loving touch.

Through Her touch, women receive the gift of Healing Sweat, thus detoxifying our bodies, Vivid dreaming and Cranial Pressure, much like accupressure only working from the inside out.

These gifts give women the chance to arise from slumber, take an aspirin (guarding us against strokes–my Goddess thinks of everything) and allows us those few nocturnal hours to be alone, enjoy our own private living room sweat lodge, so that we can either solve the problems of the world’s economy or decide how to get the berry stains out of our favorite white blouse most efficiently.

My Goddess, Volcanus Nocturnus, comes to me even without my prayers and supplications, because Her devotion to me as a Crone is complete and loyal.

Her symbol is not that different from the posters you see of wet t-shirt contests.

When Volcanus Nocturnus moves onto someone else, I will release Her with Love, and think of Her often when I arise at a reasonable hour with cool, dry sheets.

One of the winning entries in the ‘Create A Goddess Competition’ at Goddess Gift