BOOBS or BANGS?

In the age of the fanciest of gizmo and gadgets and electronic calendars in all shapes and sizes I still choose to shun them all. I rely on an archaic system that involves a handy dandy paper and pencil black book planner with a month-at-a-glance, a pencil with an eraser, and a paper clip to mark the date. 
It's how I roll.
It's what I understand.
It's a system I am a slave to.
I am nothing without the black book planner.

A rebel against modern day conveniences I tuck the planner under my arm, tote it around hither and yon and refer to it daily to see where I should be and when. When I'm setting up an appointment or in a meeting and everyone else grabs their phones and other hand held devices I dig out the black book - which, incidentally, is only a bit smaller than the Qwest Dex phone book.

With such a steel proof method to keep my important notes, appointments and reminders it's a wonder I managed to double-book two 
very important
appointments on the same day last weel.
One being my mammogram and the other being, well, another pressing, hard-to-get appointment with, ah, my hair stylist.

When I realized my predicament I deeply pondered the dilemma, "Well this isn't going to work," I thought and called the hospital and cancelled my mammogram.

For roughly 23 seconds.

I wondered as soon as I'd hung up how it could be that highlights in my hair would weigh the more important of the two options. A look in the mirror confirmed the dire need for the hair appointment and I already knew how long it could be before the stylist could squeeze me in again, but the real quandary is -
What does that say about me?!

Well, first of all it says
a) I realize how hard it is to get an appointment with a good stylist.
b) I'm pretty much anxious to look for a-n-y excuse to not show up for an appointment that consists of prodding, poking, probing or pinching any of my female areas and that probably isn't that unusual,
but it also says
c) I am now a shallow, simple person who would choose to replace my sickly, dark roots with beautiful, bright blond ones instead of showing up for a screening that could save my life.

So... in the end I realized I had momentarily lost my mind and my better sense prevailed. I called the hospital right back.

"Hi, I just called a minute ago to cancel my 8:30 on Monday for my mammogram and I'd like to reschedule it please."
"The same appointment?"
"Yes. For 8:30 a.m. on Monday."
"The exact same appointment?"
"Ah, yes."
"At 8:30 a.m. on Monday - just like you had?"
"Yes. Is it gone already?"
"No. Just checking. You want to reschedule the same exact appointment for the same exact time you just cancelled for?"
"YES. (sigh) I thought I had a conflict (dark roots) but I don't so I'd like to just come in for the mammogram (not really but my guilt is weighing heavy)."
"Okay, I've got you down. Thanks for calling (you unorganized goof that probably has a hair appointment conflict that you double booked by using a planner made out of paper instead of using an electronic device that would have saved us all this hassle) Have a good day."


The good news is...I did the right thing and showed up for the mammogram and received the letter yesterday that the test was fine.

And more good news...the hair appointment I rescheduled is in two days.
Dark roots be damned - it may be shallow your days ARE numbered.