Woe-Man Talk

Let's talk shop. No I don't mean Etsy. I am talking a little girl talk. You know things women think about but probably would never say out loud unless intoxicated. Every year, we all have annual exams. Nothing like going and getting a rotor rootering from someone that you are sorta not really friends with. It's always a routine when you go see the wassa doctor. Well, for me it is. It's winter and shaving my legs isn't really on my list of priorities. But like most women two weeks ago I got up groomed in all places that looked like a overgrown fields of hay and dread the lunch time appointment like most of us do. 

Why I would schedule my appointment at lunch I have no idea, but I did. In a mad rush, I get into my car, make the 15 minute drive and as soon as I pull in I get nervous and have to go to the bathroom. I rush the bathroom and then I do my business. I am standing there washing my hands thinking, "Oh, god! I just pooed." So, I look around grab paper towel and run some water, go back into the stall and clean myself a little more. Please don't tell me you probably haven't done this or even had the thought in your head of "what if it's not fresh?" "Did I clean it extra good?" I can't tell you how many times I have done the ole stick my head between my legs or did the wave of air with my hand up to my face to make sure I am still some what cucumber melon smellin'. I used to powder up my area. Throw a little baby powder on with a little puffer. But then I stopped because I read somewhere it could cause your pH balance to be off and I also didn't want to be lying on the table and have a "poof" in her face. 

Yes, she's a woman. I can't imagine wanting to be a gynecologist  Yeah, the money is probably great, but I don't think I could look at katooks all day long. I would also be the kind of doctor that would say, "you kinda rank!" Which brings me to why I always get paranoid when I go see her knowing that I would point out a rotten tuna. I am setting there in a hospital gown thinking, its going to be over in 5 minutes, so I am examining all parts to make sure I haven't missed a patch and if my socks are clean. She comes in and says hi, pats me on the legs then without so much as a "Everything going okay?" she pats my girls like hamburger patties, presses my stomach like she's kneading dough for Amish bread and sets down and blares a light to my mid section. I don't know about you but my canoe doesn't need a spot light. It's not really famous but if you say so at that moment, but can the nurse give me some kind of introduction made for movie stars? 

When I get nervous, I get word vomit. I talk just off the wall crazy stuff. She is finishing up the exam and in one hot second, I say, "um, can you not stick your finger in my butt this time?" I had a hemmoriod removed a few months ago and I am still really sensitive about that area." She was like "really?" "Yes, ma'am." I should be able to call her by her first name at this point right? She just took a dive into the Erie Canal with a forceps like object. She says, "oh, yes honey, you can refuse." I said, "you mean I could have refused that part of the exam for the last ten years?" Dr. Feel Not So Good says, "Yes." I wanted to punch her right in the mouth. My hemmy started right after I had seen her last year. Then the doc and nurse became fascinated  By the end of the exam, I had explained the whole process. Proclaimed that the doctor who removed my plum size object was not that hot and she patted me on the leg and said, "I am so sorry you had to go through that. You have to get a mammogram." 

Oh, goody. I thought I had just saved myself from the buttdozer like activity and she ruins my day by saying I get to go AGAIN to smashing party. Apparrently, I get to do this every year because I am, well, over the age of 40. So, I went from being paranoid that my crotch wasn't beauty queen perfect to then wondering if they have coffee talk or lunch about all the ugly, stinky lou lou's they see every day, and if she thinks my nips were ab normal, if my feet stunk while they were up in the stir ups and if she noticed my cellulite and the mole on my butt. 

One appointment, once a year and it causes too much distress. Then I go back to work, thinking, I wonder if they see me walking a little funny. Do they have this radar that speaks above my head that says, she just got swabbed with a q-tip that is made for Bugs Bunny. 

I don't know, but all this crap that women have to go through is a crock of shit. Exams, paranoia  questions, etc. I mean it's not like she removed anything, but I went right to bed when I got home, some five hours later. Then lying there I was thinking, I wonder who does her exam because she can't do it herself. I know, I know. It is a never ending cycle. Some woman took a nose dive with a tool that they use on Cake Boss and smiles at me to have a good day, see ya next year. 

I think next January I will just take a picture of it and send it in. Say "Here, nothings changed. Refill my birth control and if you need to dig deeper into this matter, see previous ten years."

Have a happy Monday. I feel perfectly sort of normal thinking it myself. And go ahead and laugh. I dare ya. I love woman talk. 

Dusty