Last week I had to go in for my once a year girly-parts check-up. You know, it's often referred to as a woman's "annual" or gyn check-up, or poon peek.
* Ahem *
I'm wondering if other women have crazy thoughts running through their heads as they undergo this yearly wonder, or if it's just me? I get so nervous about the exam, I never know what thought will pop into my head next.
Every year, I dread this appointment for at least a full week before it takes place. I always try to think up excuses for canceling it, and then the image of one of my neighbors who died of cervical cancer comes to mind.
I keep the appointment.
I'm in my forties and you'd think I'd be used to this nightmare event by now, but I'm not. I'm not a sexually shy person (clearly!), but I get nervous for this appointment every year. My heart races, my hands sweat, I feel awkward and uncomfortable and I would rather be anywhere else.
I've given birth to three children with a host of people in the room as I did so. How can a simple exam fluster me so?
I entered the office with a wayward nod to the expecting mothers in the waiting area. My youngest is fourteen and I'm clearly past the baby birthing stage of my life. The receptionist asked me to fill out a zillion of the exact same forms I filled out last year, and I did.
And then I waited.
While I waited, I wondered if there would be time to take one more quick shower before the doctor began exploring my nether regions. Perhaps the shower I took an hour before was not enough. Why don't they have bidets in the waiting area?
I reminded myself my doc (a woman) looks at twats all day long and surely mine can't be unique.
Then I wondered if perhaps mine is unique, because I don't have any real-life experience with other women's lady bits.
I began to ponder, in depth, the possibilities for variations in va-jay-jays.
Right then an overly friendly nurse called my name and ushered me out of the waiting area into the dungeons of hell actual offices.
She asked if I'd like to step on the scale.
I told her, I really would not like to at all.
She laughed and we passed up the scale for the actual examination room.
"Whew!" I thought. "I escaped the scale!"
I was quite sure I lost five pounds stressing about being weighed in public.
The nurse was very! happy! She chattered nonstop about every topic imaginable except those related to why I was there. I suppose she's a tool of distraction. She took my blood pressure. She instructed me to get naked and put on a hospital gown with the opening in the front.
"Why bother?" I thought.
"No problem," I said instead.
The nurse departed. I stripped off my clothes and folded them on a chair. I hurried into the hospital gown in case anyone should happen to walk in as I stood there buck naked.
God forbid, the woman who delivered my last child should see me naked.
I sat on the examination table waiting for the doctor. While I waited, I began to wonder who invented the speculum and whatever possessed him (definitely a him!) to do so. I sent a tweet out to over 2,000 people on Twitter asking if any of them knew who invented the speculum.
Maybe it was my imagination, but I could have sworn I heard people all over the world laughing as they read it. Those who didn't laugh, most likely un-followed me.
I'm pretty sure, a bazillion years ago, some man wanted to get a good look-see up inside a cooter in an attempt to figure out why the damn thing felt so good. He invented the speculum and women have been subjected to it ever since.
Don't ya think?
Right then it occurred to me I now have a Brazilian!
I have a Brazilian (!) and I didn't at last year's appointment. What if the doctor had never seen a bald hoo haa before? I suppose it's unlikely in Orange County, but possible. She certainly had never seen one on me. Before I could worry much about my Brazilian, Dr. Mary Sunshine entered the room.
The doc greeted me with a huge hug and her sing-songy voice exuded so! much! happiness! to see me again. She's an expert at small talk but her efforts to make me enjoy my visits with her are futile. She inquired as to whether I've had any health changes in the last year. I told her I underwent a breast reduction last summer.
"Ok then," she said. "Why don't you go ahead and lie back? I'll start with your breast exam."
"Oh shit!" I thought. "What if my bionic nipples misbehave?"
** The conclusion of this story will be posted tomorrow. **
© Twenty Four At Heart