So..once a year women of all shapes, ages, and sizes make the dreaded but necessary trip to the gynecologist.
Pretty much NOTHING can make this visit fun.
This is a time in a woman’s life where privacy, self-esteem, and confidence get thrown right out the window in an effort to take care of our bodies so we can stick around for the ones we love.
This brief but God-awful visit elicits all sorts of emotions, interesting conversations among women, and let’s face it– jokes such as this one.
As we calmly sit in the waiting room writing down our entire sexual history (right hahaha) past surgeries, current address, possible health issues, and family history (the list goes on and on) we listen for a nurse to call our name.
It’s almost a relief when it gets called, too, because you know that you are that much closer to being fully clothed and in your car on the way to a memory erasing destination–chocolate.
Next, the nurse leads you to the “Money Room” and makes you pay for the good doctor to go to third base with you and soon after puts you in a room to talk about things you don’t even tell your own mother. Good times.
After that, she tells you to take everything off and put a gown on and to tie it in the front. This is no time to challenge the doctor because he will make you pull it over your head if you pull that trick. (Calm down. Just kidding)
This is typically my calm before the storm because as soon as she leaves I find myself in this mad dash to get completely undressed and clothed in the gown before the doctor comes back in–as though he is just waiting right outside the door to burst in and catch me naked.
Now, during this mad dash I make sure to hide my underwear and bra so that the good doctor doesn’t see something so private and personal. Because that would be embarrassing right?
My next step in this wicked race to get on top of that table (calm, cool, and collected as though I showed up that way) is to don my feet with the socks I threw in my purse just for this visit.
We are now at the part of the visit where the “talky” doctor does what he does best…talking all the while. They must have a course in med school that teaches doctors to talk incessantly about ordinary everyday things as they poke, prod, and rub things as though it’s all as normal as a quick trip to the corner CVS.
I love being a woman. 🙂