Complaint: A Womanly One

There’s nothing like going to the lady doctor to humiliate and embarrass yourself just a little bit more than the last time.

Ahh, you know of what I speak? Your annual womanly appointment. South of the border needs to be taken care of, so once a year, off you go, ready to climb aboard the stallion and get your nether cowgirl regions checked out.

It’s not fun. It’s not dignified. It’s not pleasant.

But it must be done.

And what makes it worse is if while you’re waiting, you have to pee, and you go to find a bathroom in the maze of halls, and you find it, but when you go to exit, you’re living in a Sartre novel, as there’s no way out of the labyrinthine structure you’ve entered. So you have to ask someone in scrubs how to get back to the waiting room and you find out that your cute little Converse shoes squeak every time you walk AND they make your feet smell like death. Why or why didn’t you wear socks today?

What continues to debase you, of course, is the paper gown/gigantic napkin you get to wear around yourself while you freeze your heinie off waiting to be probed. And once you’re in the examining room, there’s nothing to look at except diagrams of cervical cancers and breast lumps. It’s not a laugh riot.

Then there’s the whole worry about flatulence. You do NOT want any action going on down there while your doctor is visiting. That would pretty much mean you’d have to basically join the Witness Protection Program of Wellness and never set foot within a five-mile radius of said medical establishment. It would just be too mortifying.

Finally, there’s the whole verbal diarrhea thing. If you’re not freezing your ya-yas off or getting poked and prodded or worrying about smelly feet or errant gas, there’s your damn mouth. Talk, talk, talk. “Blah, blah, blah, here I am, telling you my life story because I don’t want to call attention to the fact that you have a metal instrument SCREWED inside my personal area, hey, that’s my uterus, dammit, ouch!” So you blather on and on and on like an idiot.

So I ask you, how do these medical professionals keep a straight face?