A Speculum-Tacular Morning

**Note - this post is about a trip to the gyno. If you are a male and would like to stop reading, feel free... This concludes your spoiler alert**

Any female can relate to the general indignities associated with her yearly trip to see the "lady" doctor. Of course, if you are old enough to read this, you're old enough to say the word gynecologist. Men included. Uh oh, I feel a tangent coming on...It's funny how men get all weird about "female" stuff. Like they squeal or wrinkle their noses if they hear the word "period" or "ovulate." Oooohhh. Buck up, lil man. I have to watch you adjust your junk-I mean PENIS-in public. You should be able to hear the word tampon without freaking out. End tangent.

So anyway back to my doctor's appointment. First of all, there is nothing like beginning your day with a gyno appointment. What's not to like? First you get to pee in a cup which is always a good time, especially leaving it in a little window for someone, probably the poor woman who just had to take my insurance card, to pick up. Gross. And, gross.

Then, it is time to be weighed. The nurse kindly informed me that they take off two pounds for clothes and shoes. I still took off my shoes. She still took off two pounds. I told her that I liked her a lot.

Next you get to undress and put on a gown that has been worn by more women than I'd like to think about and has been laundered within an inch of its life. Then you get to sit in a cold exam room completely naked, save for the gown, and wait for the doctor. Then after you wait, you wait some more. After a lot of waiting, which I have always thought could be done fully clothed in the waiting room, the doctor comes in.

Now, I must say, my new doctor is very nice. She was great. Very chatty. Perhaps a tad too chatty considering I prefer to be looking at people during conversations, not looking at the ceiling. Oh, yeah, I forgot the whole feet in the stirrups, ass off the table part. Also a good time.

After the medieval salad tongs have been inserted, the doctor does her thing. Then she squeezes your boobs a bit for good measure (admittedly the most action I've had in a while) and you are all done.

She took some information from me, standard stuff, and of course, one of the standard questions is "What is your method of birth control?" I answered "I live with my parents. It's very effective." We had a nice chuckle together; we're practically besties now.

All in all, the morning could have been a lot worse. I could have had a colonscopy or something.