Today was the unfortunate, unsettling day of going to the Gyno Master….I mean Doctor.
Making that appointment once a year is easy peasy. Showing up for it is another thing.
This is how much I dislike a visit to the Gyno, while they circumnavigate my naughty bits:
- I would rather use gum as a rubber instead of spreading my legs for a pappy pap.
- I would rather smell a cup of farts (preferably my own) instead of butterflying my legs while a ginormous clamp inserts into my tunnel of love
- I would rather listen to Michael Bolton, every time I took a shit, instead of having long tipped q-tip waxing my insides.
This list could go on, I assure you. But I’ll continue this tall tale of the privacy of my privates being exposed.
I’m out there. Like all out there. Legs spread. Lower half naked. Glad I groomed and showered before lying my naked butt on the damn long paper. Good thing about cleansing before hand, you don’t leave skid marks.
Anyhow, Doctor comes in. Asks me how I am, I kindly tell her that she is about to enter my pleasure zone with tongs. All in all, uncomfortable.
She inserts the forceps or whatever they are called. It literally felt like she was mining for blood cells, had she been working any harder she would have scraped my teeth out. Here I am, just trying not to fart or dribble.
Then she finally stops and tells me she will have to pull out. I ask why, she replies “Your cervix seems to be hiding on us”. Excuse me? My what is hiding? I was completely unaware that cervix’s played Peek-a-boo, apparently they do.
It was one of those moments, that cracked me up. It was something you hear in a Judd Apatow flick. Needless to say, she eventually found my cervix.
And that was my trip to the Gyno. Until next time…..ugh…….