That's right, Reader, I disappear for months at a time, only to return and regale you with what I think is
really important:
Stories about my lady business.
TrAaaalLLLlaaaalalalaaa
Right, so Everyone? I have a new doctor. This means I had to get a physical today. *stressful violin scree*.
But first, I think you should watch this video because it's the
"I'm getting a physical" song. It ran through my head all day. In fact I'm doing the one-shoulder-shrug dance and I've wrapped a bandana around my forehead right this second. Plus I'm super stressed out over the whole thing so I'm acting weird.
Annnnyhoooo.... I forgot that physicals include a lady-exam and vaccination needles and invasive questioning. I was happily living in denial for 4 entire years of having no doctor. Also, they involve paper gowns.
Now, I know what you're thinking, Reader. Paper GOWN? GOWN? That word
denotes some kind of glamorous starworthy accoutrement, right? A GOWN
is something you get married in. Yes, an origami frock worthy of the
longest runways and frothiest of fashion aficionados. Why, to devise
and execute such a practical garment would simply have to be the work of
none other than the likes of Versace or Lacroix. I bet it looked
AMAZANG, like-a-this:
Nope. It's really just a big joke the medical staff is playing. I looked more like a chewed up lunch bag with oddly pasty legs. *sad trombone*
Medical Staffer #1: So, we have a new clinic! Should we get some proper cloth gowns for our stressed out patients who are about to have a new doctor/total stranger slap on a miner's head-lamp and safety goggles so that they can peer deep into the dangerous nether-junglezone of their ladymine?
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| "Jeee-uust a few more seconds and we'll be all done here. I just need oooone more quick sample." |
Medical Staffer #2: NooOoo no no no, how about let's give them one of these gowns made out of feeble, kleenex-thin birthday wrapping tissue? Then, give 'em each a 4-inch long hunk of garbage bag plastic to tie around their waists, tell them to put it on backward and to give the plastic a tug so that it will stretch into a belt. *slaps hands together because his work here is done*
Then we'll see if they EVER complain about actual hospital gowns again. Amiright? High five anyone?
Medical Staffer #1: But... doesn't that seem a little bit... y'know... cruel?
Medical Staffer #2: Fine. Give them each a tissue blanket too- in case one of the nurses leaves the door open... but to save money, we'll cut the blankets into four! SAVINGS!
Medical Staffer #1: So just a kleenex for a blanket then? *writes on official medical clipboard*
Medical Staffer #2: Hmm.. name brands are pricey. How about a ValuePlus toilet paper square?
Medical Staffer #1: Vallluuue... Plus. Got it. I'll start separating the two-ply.
Medical Staffer #2: Attaboy. Way to be a team player.
Right so, I put on the gown and carefully arranged my toilet paper square so that I wouldn't get too much of a draft. And I left on my gear. My undergear. Okay? Because at this point, I still hadn't realized that I was going to be explored liked a prospective coal mine and I was wearing a paper birthday napkin and I had a strip of garbage bag wrapped around me and someone had taken my blasted waist measurement and they told me I was getting a mumps shot and a tetanus shot and a diphtheria shot and they asked me if I do street drugs and I don't, but I suddenly felt worried that nobody would believe me.. like I would do some kind of twitchy nervous "tell" that only doctors know about, but I didn't mean to get so nervous because I was just trying to be a model patient- so I went off on a tangent about my elbow and how it doesn't straighten quite right ever since I broke it 9 years ago....
So when my doctor donned the headlamp and safety goggles (SAFETY GOGGLES??), and told me to hunker down and put my feet in the stirrupy things- I began to feel nervous. Nervous as though, you know, she might be planning to send in a canary or something, too.
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| "Alright, little fella... it's time." | | | | | |
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So I had to be reminded that I can't wear my underwear during a ladytime exam. I was hoping she wouldn't notice, that she'd just laugh this whole papsmear business off and forget about the whole thing.
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| So.. you want me to take these off huh? Say, is that a marching band over there? Wakka Wakka. How about my wonky elbow, eh? Huh? How about it? Wanna see? My elbow? *bend bend* |
So the doctor left for 30 seconds while I sort of panicked and scrunched up my face and tried to remove my under-euphemisms without shredding my gown. But I was already tangled up in the stirrup things and the paper on the vinyl bed getting transmogrified and the worrying and the twisting and the trying to hurry, because I didn't want anyone to see any of my stuff and then the clamminess and the ringing in my ears... and then the getting stuck and writhing around like a seal and then the wadding up of the underwear and sort of just hiding them to the side under my toilet paper square while regaining my composure.
But it looked like I had taken a hand mixer to my gown and the paper sheet on the exam table, and there just wasn't time to fix it.
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| "I'm in here, doctor. I'm ready!" |
But I survived. It wasn't that bad. The main thing was that I was allowed to get dressed again. Phew. The doc left, I got up and peeled the remains of my gown and the sheet from around my neck and felt around for my undies.
Gone.
Seriously gone. And the next appointment... and it already took too long... and the polite knocking on the door....
But they were gone. I looked beside the bed, I looked in my pants, I looked in the wads of paper that where everywhere like the dregs of a toddler birthday party. They were gone with the wind, with the tide.. lost in space.
My panties were gone. My hanes comfy fit panties. My goin-to-the-doctor practical panties. gone. But then I had a eureka moment. OF COURSE!
UNDER the solid metal exam table. There they were, as though a heavenly light was shining upon them. I could see the edge of them peeking out from way underneath, against the wall behind the drawer unit. The only problem? I was going to have to discreetly, nudge the table over to the side. Surely, I'd have some kind of heroic adrenaline rush to help me. How heavy could one of these things be?
Keep in mind that I had no pants on. So I silently and quickly nudged the table over.
"SCREeeeeeeeeeeEEeEEeEEEEEEEEEeeeEEEeeeeeCH" said the examination table.
Retrieved my underpant-a-lettes from the pile of suspicious medical dust bunnies and went home commando.
The End.