A mammogram, like that time of the month or how to wear clothes that match, is something men don't want to know about.

For a guy, learning what women have to endure at the doctor's office is worse than watching a new mechanic work on our car.

Whoa. That sounded shallow and insensitive. Let me try again.

Learning what women have to endure at the doctor's office is worse than that time I had to listen to my great aunt talk about her goiter when there was a game on. There was a game on.

That sounded worse.

Women think the reason men don't want to hear anything medical about them is fear. That's only partially true.

The other reasons are:

1) Our heads are filled with beer stories and obscure sports statistics; we can't put anything else in our brains or the important information will spill out. Have you ever tried to survive a conversation not knowing how many beers baseball Hall of Famer Wade Boggs once drank on a flight from New York to Los Angeles? It's embarrassing (and 64.)

And 2) pain. The one thing men hate more than people who don't agree with us is pain. Any pain. It's a scientific fact men feel pain worse than anything else on the planet. That's why men don't give birth. We'd explode, or something.

Let's look at pain.

How a woman describes a mammogram: "A technician smashed my breasts between two glass plates and took a picture of them."

How a guy interprets this: That time Wile E. Coyote is crushed by his own trap.

Is it that bad?

The CDC website says: The woman "will feel some pressure" during a mammogram.

How a woman responds to "will feel some pressure": "HA."

How a guy interprets all of this: That time Bugs Bunny tricked Yosemite Sam into a shack filled with lit dynamite.

Yes, through the lens of Looney Tunes is how men understand the world. To have a successful discussion with a man, please read, "The World According to Foghorn Leghorn," and hit him with a pie.

The only thing mammogram has going for it is its name ending in "gram," like telegram, a message delivery system, or candy gram, delivering candy. Mammogram sounds like a delivery system for boobs.

Knock, knock, knock.

Man: "Hello?"

Person at door: "Mammogram."

Who's not going to answer that?

My wife returned home from her recent mammogram and set a bag full of small boxes on the kitchen table.

"What's that?" I asked.

"Nipple stickers," she said.

Not the answer I was expecting.

Apparently, the medical profession no longer uses stickers to indicate where the most obvious part of the breast is, so my wife asked if she could have them for our daughter's school.

Again. Not what I was expecting.

"What?" my wife defended herself. "They're pretty. They have birds and flowers on them and kids like stickers."

Yes, dear.

She asked me to deliver the mammogram stickers to my child's school the next day. And of course I did it because if I've learned nothing else from the Looney Tunes, it's that I'm Elmer Fudd, and Elmer Fudd never wins.

Jason Offutt’s newest book, “Chasing American Monsters: 251 Creatures, Cryptids, and Hairy Beasts,” is available at jasonoffutt.com.