and other stories from my gynecologist
pamie is a little sad.
I took my boyfriend to the airport this morning. He’s visiting the fam for a week.
This afternoon I went to the gyno. I hate getting my annual. I end up feeling very violated. It’s all over so fast. Wam, bam, here’s your co-pay bill. No hugging, no snuggling, no lollipop.
I feel that after you spread your legs you should at least get a sucker.
For those of you who never go, and for those of you who will never need to go, here’s the experience in five easy steps:
1. Something metallic and wet pulls at you.
2. Something sharp and small pokes at you.
3. Something sharp pokes further in you.
4. Metallic wet thing gets smaller and goes away.
5. Fingers poke around while pushing down on your stomach
You have to understand that I started out by going to the University doctors. They don’t care how you feel. They don’t care what’s hurting you. They want you on the pill and they want you out of their office. Then they want you to come back every year.
My first gyno was pretty good. She explained what was happening to me, and aside from that awkward moment during the breast exam where she was flopping my titties around and asking me how my GPA was going, she was pretty good at making me feel comfortable. She was aware of my body to a degree that I didn’t feel uncomfortable telling her about my problems.
She said I had a beautiful cervix. That made me feel proud, since it’s a natural beauty.I’ve never spent money on creams or anything to improve its appearance. I can only assume it’s pretty, since I’ve never seen it myself, but I’m planning on putting that on my resume one day. If nothing else, I’ll get an internship at Annie Sprinkle’s office.
The next gyno left me in such a state that I still haven’t recovered. First of all she was cross-eyed, which makes me nervous to begin with, since she’s sticking sharp objects between my legs. Then she starts making fun of my family’s medical history, which I won’t go into right now. Just know that at one point she made a joke that it was a wonder my father wasn’t dead. So as you could imagine I was just anxious as hell to get naked in front of her.
Here’s the worst part… I’m on my back, legs in the air, feet in the stirrups, and she starts calling to my cervix like she’s playing Ollie Ollie Oxen Free. “Come on, Miss Cervix! Where are you? Oh! There she is! Hello!”
Did I mention I had the flu?
Christ, I was humiliated. I just wanted to go home, but we were only on step two (see above) and it was going to be a few more steps. She whistled “Heigh Ho” and sang a couple of tunes while she completed my pap smear and then told me I was free to go.
She left the room and I cried for five minutes. A crazy woman had just looked inside my body, and she didn’t even notice that I had a beautiful cervix. I had it all dolled up for her, too. With a little bow.
Today’s doctor didn’t mention my cervix as a beautiful thing. In fact, she was worried about it because I was so sensitive. I’m starting to worry that my cervix is losing it’s sex appeal at an unusually early age. I wonder if there’s some sort of exercise I could do.
Then I realize that I’m trying to impress my gynecologist, and I think that’s going a bit too far to be liked.
Besides, how can you impress someone in a paper vest and a sheet?
Don’t ever tell anyone you’re a comedian if they ask what you do at night. They just want to hear a joke. The place I was at today was called “A Woman’s Place” and when the doctor came in I asked her, “Do you guys ever jokingly refer to this place as ‘the kitchen?’” And she just looked at me. “You know,” I said, “A Woman’s Place? Do you call it ‘barefoot and pregnant?’”
She goes, “That’s not funny.” And I was like, “It’s just a joke, you know about how far we’ve come and all.” And she’s like, “My husband wouldn’t find that funny.” And I was like, “You’re a very lucky lady.” And then she started putting on her gloves and cleaning the speculum so I shutup. She asked for a joke, man.
Tip for future patients: if they have that seat where you sit down and then they tip you back to put your calves in the stirrups, be careful. Going back I felt like a cowboy slapping my legs up in the air… but she didn’t tell me when I was coming down, and I was talking to her and I slowly started sinking and my butt fell down from the chair with my legs over my head. Oh yeah, I looked real cool.
And I still didn’t get a lollipop.
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