Good Intentions, Flawed Results
If you are a man and you don’t really want to know what goes on when a woman goes and gets all her lady parts checked out, read no further. Oh and by the way when I say getting her lady parts checked out I don’t mean being ogled by some ne’er do well bar troll who looks her up and down to determine his chances of getting lucky. I mean the much-anticipated annual event of a visit to the gynecologist. This is the only time that a man or woman who you barely know touches your boobs and pokes in your nether regions and then charges you for it (unless you’re the town hooker). I mean usually that kind of thing is over in 2 minutes or less and it doesn’t cost a thing unless you then have to go see the gynecologist to rid yourself of whatever gift you might have received from your lustful interlude. It’s like getting a root canal but you’re naked and the dentist is between your legs. Sounds fun, right?
If that isn’t just a bowl full of cherry’s then lets add in headlamps, KY Jelly, metal instruments, giant Q-tip swabs and let’s not forget stirrups. Not the fun kind of stirrups like super cool cowboys wear, no these are metal and help you to spread your legs which is a very un-cowboy like thing to have happen to you unless there is a horse between them. There are few moments in a woman’s life more uncomfortable then lying on a table, nearly naked, with your feet in un-cowboy like stirrups, and having someone (well yes it is a doctor), with half a hand inside you while they push on your abdomen and try to engage you in casual banter. How ’bout those Phillies? Could there be anything more uncomfortable?
The ONLY thing that makes this whole close encounter of the awkward kind bearable is that after the first time that you visit, you know what to expect the next time you go. It’s pretty straightforward. Get in, get naked, don an ever so attractive “robe”, lay on the table and away we go. So you would think that DD (dancing daughter), who has been through this annual event several times wouldn’t need to call the Batty Broad 5,000 times at her recent visit (okay maybe it was only 3 – but still!)
Cell phone rings
Me – who is currently on the phone with my one of my favorite colleagues, trying to solve an ACTUAL problem. We will refer to said colleague as SM (Southern Man – yes it’s a reference to his geographical location).
I don’t even bother putting him on hold, which I will realize later was probably not the best plan
Me to SM: I’m sorry, can you hold on one minute? It’s DD.
Me to DD: picking up phone – Hello? What’s up?
DD: Sorry I have a question
Me: Okay, what?
DD: Do I have to take off my bra?
Me: Uh yes, you have to take EVERYTHING off. Which isn’t totally true they let you leave your socks on.
DD: Okay, sorry (giggling) I just couldn’t remember
Me to DD: – hearing SM laughing into my other ear – Okay, I’m on the phone I have to go.
Me to SM: Sorry about that
SM: No problem (still laughing)
Cell phone rings again
Me to SM: OMG – Sorry, can you hold on again?
Me to DD: Hey, what’s up? I’m on a WORK call
DD: Sorry, I can’t remember does the robe open in the front or the back?
Me: OMG DD how else would the doctor be able to examine you if the robe doesn’t open in the front?
DD: now really giggling – sorry I wasn’t sure
Me (in my head): Is she punking me?
Me: Okay I REALLY have to go now
Me to SM: I’M REALLY SORRY about that
SM: Not even trying to hide his laughter. It’s okay, it’s very entertaining
Me: Sure…I’m sure you really need to know all about what happens at the gynecologist. ha!
Cell phone rings AGAIN
Me to SM: Ugh…okay I swear this is the last time!
Me to DD: Seriously? What now?
DD: Am I suppose to put my feet in the stirrups now or wait until he comes in?
Me: Well unless you would like to provide him with a show when he walks in the door it might be best to just wait until he gets there and then put them into the stirrups. Follow his lead, he’s done this before.
DD: Okay I just wanted to make sure…I won’t call again. Love you! Thanks!
Me: Love you too, you crazy kid
Me to SM: I have no words. Can you even continue a conversation with me now?
SM: That was so funny. You really do have conversations like this (he has read my blog)
Me: Unfortunately, yes this is my life
I’m not sure how we continued our previous conversation after that. I felt like I’d forced him to watch Vagisil commercials on repeat for the past two minutes. If the Batty Broad actually had the ability to be embarrassed anymore (I believe I lost this emotional reaction somewhere during my high school years when I fell down the bleachers at a football game in my cheer leading skirt), I might not ever be able to look SM in the face again. Luckily SM has a good sense of humor and finds me kind of entertaining, so he tolerates my craziness. Bless him.
I don’t remember if we fixed the problem that we were trying to solve but I’m fairly certain that SM has more information than he ever needs to know about what goes on at the gyno. He’s filing that under “things I wish I didn’t know” right now. If he continues to have conversations with me, that file is going to grow rather large. I guess I should warn him.
The Batty Broad
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