When I’ve got the time to squeeze in as many appointments as I can during the summer, I take full advantage of it. It’s not that I can’t do them while I’m teaching, but that I sometimes need a day to recover from the agony associated with some of them.
When the dentist’s office called to tell me I need my 6-month checkup I obliged. “Sure! I can come in! I’m done with classes! I’ll be right there!”
Nothing could have prepared me for the scraping, jackhammering, and grinding the hygenist would do on my teeth. Normally, I have a high tolerance for pain. When I started to get a headache from keeping my mouth open I raised a hand to her to give me a break. If I had a white flag I surely would have waved it at her to surrender.
“Whoa. Give me a break here. You’re killing me. S-T-O-P-P-I-T, please.”
She kindly let me rest for less than 60 seconds. Sadist.
After wiping up the bloody mess she made in my mouth she called in the dentist. He is an acquaintance who we’ve dined with and whose daughters Ken has coached in basketball. We always talk books when I come in and he prods me for information on what’s hot to read. It’s nothing for Dr. Rob to hand me a sticky note and say, “Write down some new titles for me.” His kids will read just about anything I suggest. Nice guy. Just a nice guy who employs a violent dental hygenist.
My other favorite appointment to make in the summer is the gynecologist. Again, he’s a really wonderful man, but we’ve not dined with him. Unless you count the one time we ran into him at the Thai restaurant and chit-chatted. Since Ken works at the hospital and sees him a lot and they recognized each other, I could tell that Dr. G (not G for Gynecologist, either) was trying to place him and was putting two-and-two together. He had an “oh-those-two-people-go-together” look about him.
Ken snickered when we walked out and his smirk was telling.
“What? I know what you’re thinking!”
“No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do! You’re thinking, ‘That man has seen my wife’s vagina’, aren’t you?”
“Well, yeah!” he laughs. “Yeah, I was thinking that.”
There is this weird phenomenon that happens in the gynecologist office that I’ve determined to fix. It’s not the ridiculous “Do you need to empty your bladder?” question either, though I prefer they just say, “You should probably pee now.” It’s something women do when they undress and get into the paper gown. There’s always a hook on the wall for clothes and a little chair in the corner. Most of the time, I fold all my clothes and set them on the chair which will inadvertantly be at my head once I lay back on the teeny tiny bed I’m supposed to balance on.
You ladies all know what I’m talking about. We hide our panties underneath the pile of clothes.
Who are we fooling? Do we want the doctor to think we didn’t wear any today? Are we ashamed of our granny panties? Is the doctor wondering, “Gee. I wonder where her panties are in that pile.”
In an effort not to confuse Dr. G, I placed them right on top. Totally spread out, too. No wad for me, thankyouverymuch. They are there in all their glory and placed lovingly as a topper to my other clothes. Then, I lay my bra right over it so he knows I wore one of those, too. It’s a beautiful sight and one which I take care in building.
I should have taken a picture. I feel I missed a prime opportunity to take pictures for next year’s Christmas card.
I don’t just hide them. I ball them up, and roll them inside my jeans. Because what if I had to move to another room. And they fell out on the floor. And I didn’t notice. And someone found them. And then (gasp) had to go around asking “Are these your panties”???
I left “what if you’re in an accident and not wearing clean underwear” in the dust YEARS ago.
Worrier Mangna Cum Laude
My OB/GYN is a lovely East Indian woman and I never care if I’m wearing black lace or cotton G’s, I just place ‘em by the bra on top of everything. I’m sure Vicky’s doesn’t mind the extra little bit of advertsing.
Thanks for stopping by…It’s nice to see you. The Cult was an inspiration. I should’ve tried drafting a short contract for soul sales. Maybe that’ll keep the spammers away. “Look, you owe me your soul because you spammed the guestbook while advertising your site for cheap medications. Now pay up!”
Well, at least a New Year’s Greeting Card.
My mammogram Christmas cards are, indeed, going to be spectacular…my “no two are alike!” quip on the inside, I think, a rare moment of comedic genius. Mammograms of my MASSIVE BREASTS. I’ll be over it soon, I promise.
With donation information for the Susan G. Komen Foundation on the back, of course.
And I always tuck my underwear under my clothes. It’s not that I’m ashamed, but invariably, whenever I get to the OB/GYN, it’s laundry time, so nothing matches.
I do this too!! First time poster here, love your site! I visit almost every work day…not a lot of work to be done in my day. Funny panty story…I moved last year and had these really cool trust-worthy movers. I drew them a pix of my new house showing where I wanted all my stuff and left a key under the mat. When I got home and was gathering up some stuff at the hold place I went into my room and what was sitting in the middle of the floor? A Bright blue and black polka dot thong! It was the only thing in the room! I thought I would die!