Which doesn’t make its operation any less risible:
[T]he thing with the BBs-taped-to-your-nipples-as-an-orienting-device will never not be weird and funny to me. Not every place does it but the place I go does. It’s also weird and awkward trying to make small talk with a woman you either have never seen before, or don’t know well AT ALL (I think it was the same tech as last year) while she’s moving your breasts around and getting them in the right orientation for the machine).
One of the few examples of unalloyed Male Privilege in this universe is not having to deal with this. (There’s that whole prostate thing, but it’s over with in a hurry, though I can tell you that it doesn’t feel like a hurry.)