BOOBS.

Not to suddenly overwhelm our readers with worries about "ladyparts," but I'm pretty much convinced I've got breast cancer. This is extra "hilarious" because I convinced myself of this the very same day I actually went to the doctor, and she fondled my boobs and gave me a clean bill of health. (What's the doctor term for fondle again...?)

HOWEVER, this makes me even more certain that there's a problem. Yeah, I know: "that's crazy." But check it out.

(1) The doctor sees a good dozen, two-dozen lady-parts a day, and as such, probably doesn't really give every single ladies' parts the complete hooha. Who could expect her to -- she's a busy ladyparts doctor, with lots important ladyparts to fondle.

(2) She said it herself: there's no magic formula for lump-finding, what you're really looking for is "changes in your body." Pseudo-science. So why, I ask you, does she ever bother with the honk-honk ding-ding? If she were honking my shit every day, then I could trust her pseudo-science a little more. But until she has my boyfriend in there dinging along with her... Not helpful.

(3) Mine aren't the tiggest ol' bitties in the world. So she probably didn't even try.

Conclusion: this thing I found in the back part of my left Teton is probably gonna kill me. It's like someone dropped a jujubee in there, I swear. And not only that, I found another one on the top of the same gazonga -- a tiny, Nerd-sized one -- what are the odds? Obviously, the discovery of the second lump only made me more sure that that first one was legit. Yeah, maybe I was falling asleep at the time of said self-exam, and maybe I was laying in a clinically inappropriate position for lump-diving, and possibly the first lump was just me hitting my rib at a weird angle and the second lump was just a mole I forgot I had, but I'd rather be safe than not sorry I'm calling the doctor for the fifth time this week.