jiffylube

so i had to go to the lady part doctor yesterday to get the plumbing checked out. i don't know if  guys know how lucky they are that they don't have to do this annually, but they are. (super lucky.) i mean, it does get easier after the many years (and after 2 kids) letting other people examine your stuff...but it never is something that is fun. when i walked into the waiting room, i had flashbacks of being pregnant and spending so much time in that office. (like 234 visits.) no bullshit, it kinda gave me the heebee jeebees. there was a sea of pregnant people waddling around me and i remembered those days like it just happened...not like it was 2 years ago since i was waddling along with them. i happened to be around a lot of babies this summer and my uterus got very twitchy around each and everyone of them. whispering sweet nothings from down below...asking me to have another baby. (i politely told it to be quiet.) however, seeing a bunch of pregnant people in one place made my uterus want to go play hide and seek...and never be found. it wasn't whispering anything but "get the hell out of here!" don't get me wrong...i didn't hate being pregnant, but there isn't anything glamorous about it. you are housing a goddamn human being. your body does weird stuff, you are uncomfortable...and not to mention the fact that you are huge! i sometimes felt like i was a planet orbiting the sun. (a pregnant planet.)

anyway, when i told my husband i had the appointment he looked over at me from watching his show and said, "where is it again?" i said, "the lady doctor office? the one that you were at? at least 14 times? that one!?" he said, "well i didn't know if you switched doctors or something...i don't know." he went back to watching bait car and i went about my business of doing dishes. he then leaned over in the lazy boy and yelled, "so you are going to get your oil changed, huh?!" this is what he calls a gyno appointment..."getting my oil changed." i replied, "yes, warren...i'm getting my oil changed and there is a dipstick and all." (dear god.) he chuckled. so anyway, there i was in the waiting room with a sea of soon to be mothers...and one dude. i always feel bad for the guys in these situations, because it has to be anything but comfortable for them. even if they are "secure in their manhood" or whatever, it's not any guy's choice place to be. football game? yes. local tavern? yes. in a waiting room full of women who are loaded with hormones and ready to fire humans out of their lady parts? no. this guy looked like he was on edge and every time the receptionist called some one's name he jumped a little bit. i wish i would've known his name...i would've yelled it just to see what would happen. (he'd probably shit his pants.) anyway, something has shifted in me now that i am a mom. i don't mind waiting in a waiting room anymore. i actually find it enjoyable! i mean, i'm alone, it's quiet, i can catch up on what the latest celebs are doing in free magazines. it's great! when the nurse called my name i was a little disappointed. i wanted to sit there a little longer and enjoy some "me" time. (motherhood makes waiting rooms fun...who knew?)

so the nurse squawked my name and then loudly asks in front of everyone if i could please go to the bathroom and deposit a urine sample. i think the guy crawled out of his skin...the pregnant people didn't bat an eyelash, nor did i. pee in a cup? piece of freakin cake, people. afterwards you have the joy of standing on a scale, getting your blood pressure taken, 43 questions and all that happy horse shit. you start to feel like a machine, rather than a human. (like a car getting service done. maybe butch was onto something with his oil change comment.) when they actually take you back to the vagina inspecting room, it's a little frightening. the chair looks like something out of a medieval torture chamber and there are enough tools laying around to scare the fleas off a mutt. the nurse then tells you to get naked and put on a robe. however, she tells you to put the opening in the front rather than the back, so you aren't sure whether to tie up the strings or let them hang. (i always just wrap it around me and hope for the best.) this visit i had a doctor i've never seen at the practice. turns out she was new. this girl was blonde, perky, and pretty much around my age. i felt like having a beer with her, rather than her checking out what was under my hood. we made normal pleasantries and then she asked me the standard questions that go along with these visits. stuff that would make a guy crawl under a rock and die. i won't go into full detail, but sometimes i had to bite my inner cheek to keep from laughing at some of the shit she was asking me. when the conversation turned to the type of lube i use...i let some laughter escape outta the gates. (i couldn't help it.) at this point you are still feeling uncomfortable on the inside, but the worst is yet to come.

i can't think of a position more exposing and scary than in that chair. once you saddle up, the doctor gets real close to your lady garden and starts poking around down there like it's a science project gone bad. i always hold my breath and wait for it to be over, but like i said it has gotten easier to go to the gyno after having two kids. after giving birth twice, you've had so many people staring down there that it's like second nature. (no big deal.) i remember my mom telling me that one of her jokester friends put a "mr. yuck" sticker down there for the doctor to find. i'm not that ballsy, but i do think it's pretty funny. after all this is said and done, i always feel relieved. you sit there awkwardly in your gown on that godforsaken chair and the doctor continues to make small talk and ask more questions. afterwards, i walked back out into the waiting room to leave and that poor guy was still sitting there pretending to read a magazine, but looking like he'd just seen a ghost. (i almost screamed BOO! in his direction.) i walked out into the parking garage glad that it was over. before i went back my house and the mayhem of motherhood, i texted my husband to let him know i was on my way home and said something like, "on my way...it was really fast!" he wrote back, "jiffylube." (i died laughing.) within minutes of walking in the door, i was wiping goop off of my two year old's hands and my four year old was simultaneously yelling to tell me she just pooped and needed her tush wiped in the bathroom. (see why i liked the waiting room?) until next year and another visit to the lady part garage. godspeed to my women friends who have to endure the same nonsense. to you men who watch us go through it,  but don't have to do it? you suck. moreover, although i initially felt bad for the guy in the waiting room...it was fun to watch him squirm. whatta sissy.