Going To The OBGYN Is A Lot Like Trying On Shoes Only Not At All

I sat in the pink gown with the scratchy paper draped over my lap waiting for the doctor to come in to give me my yearly checkup. My husband, Francesco sat awkwardly in the corner repeating, “200 dollars?” He was shell shocked that we had forgotten our insurance cards and were forced to pay for the visit up front. “The money will be reimbursed when  you call in with your policy number,” the receptionist told us while I handed her my forms of 3,564 questions that ranged from “Insurance provider,” to, “Is your spouse hitting you?” Francesco was suffering from some form of financial ptsd as he usually does in his day to day life. Because he’s responsible and cares about our savings in a way that I wish I could but know I never will.

On our drive to the clinic he had tried to convince me to, “Ask the doctor how much everything will cost. Maybe we can get it cheaper somewhere else.”

I turned, “Really, where do you think we can get a vaginal exam for cheaper? What makes you think I want a cheap exam? Maybe I don’t want a discount doctor to poke my ovaries.”

Rolling his eyes, “It’s fine to ask. Maybe your dad’s friend doctor could do it?”

I threw my hands up, “Are you insane!? Dr. Mandorlay is a family friend. I am not showing him my vagina! We have insurance you crazy person! And we’re not even that poor! What the hell is wrong with you!?”

He made a right into the parking lot of the clinic, “It’s never a bad idea to save money. We don’t know how much this might cost.”

“That’s kind of the point of insurance.”

I sat on the table swinging my legs anxiously. It’s kind of twisted but i’m less worried about someone seeing my vagina than displaying it. Going to the gyno for me is awkward because of that weird moment where you have to unveil your lady bits to someone sitting one foot away from it. Preparing to go to the doctor is like going on a date where you know you’re going to get lucky. I shave, rub my legs down with lotion so she doesn’t judge me for having dry skin. I spritz my thighs with a bit of rose oil perfume so the doctor can sit down to a nice fragrant mist. I bet she’ll appreciate that, I think, she probably wishes that more of her patience oiled their legs. Then I get dressed and stress about what I’m wearing. If I wear something too comfortable I might give the doctor anxiety about having to put her hand in my hoo-haw. When I see women in sweats outside their homes I don’t associate them with the cleanest vaginas. I mean, if you can’t even bother to put on real pants who knows what’s happening down under. Do I want to go business attire? Slacks and a button-down? Do I want her to think, Power Vagina? I settle on leggins, a t-shirt, and cardigan. I went with “Casual vagina.” I started to apply makeup than worried I might take it too far. I usually wear red lip which seems a little inappropriate considering the circumstances. Like I’d somehow overdressed and was expecting something more than a simple exam. I decided on minimal makeup to somehow make it less weird. 

Come On In, Everyone! Gif By: http://www.okmoviequotes.com/

The doctor came in and introduced herself. A Colorado native, she’s been an OBGYN for a decade or so. She married into a Sicilian family. She spoke with my husband a bit about his native country, Italy, and then moved onto me. In the usual fashion, she sat on a chair and rolled up to me.

“Scoot down, scoot down, scoooooot way down. Alright, great! Now straddle for me,” she yelled in between my legs like she was screaming into a tunnel. I heard her reached for something, “Great! Lookin’ good!” I took that as a personal compliment, “Thank you.” So all the lotions and shaving weren’t crazy. Something clanked loudly, “Hmm, gotta find the right one,” more clanking. I couldn’t see her over the scratchy paper blanket. My husband peered out of the window into the parking lot. He was either uncomfortable by what the doctor was doing or he was trying to find a back alley surgeon.

“Let’s see if this speculum works. Nope. This one? Nope. Hmm. It’s your lucky day. I only use more than one for my special ladies.” I felt like I was trying on shoes. Shoes for my vagina. “You’re cervix looks healthy.” I felt scraping with her tiny, evil mini broom that they use to test your cervical cells for abnormalities. ouch. ouch. OUCH. She was finished.

She stood up, “Go ahead and get dressed. So do you know if you’re close to your cycle?”

I sat up, “Uhm, well, I want to ax murder my husband so that’s a good indication that it’s near.”

“Uh-huh,” she wrote something in my chart, probably, “psycho.”

“Also, you see my sister and she said you said she has a tilted uterus or something. Is that me too?”

“No, you don’t have matchy vaginas in that sense.”

“Cool. Is it weird that we both come to you?” It had just occurred to me that it might be odd for us to both see the same doctor.

“No, a lot of family members see the same doctor.” She smiled, “I hope you’re doing okay. I hope I didn’t kill you.”

“Jesus, could it get any worse than ‘death by pap-smear?” I laughed.

She smiled, “No, it probably couldn’t. So, see you next time!” She left.

I hopped down from the chair and started to get dressed. The tile was cold on my bare feet. I wondered why doctors offices were always freezing, like a meat locker. I contemplated taking a picture of a giant plastic sculpture of a uterus. I noticed how much space it takes up in the body which totally made sense and explained why I had to pee so often. My bladder was being pushed around by my big ass uterus. And, who invented the weird table with the feet stirrups?

I turned to my husband who was now standing anxiously, “would it be weird to do it in here?”

His eyes bugged out of his face, “Yes, yes it would be weird. What the hell is wrong with you!? Get dressed!”

I pulled on my pants, “It was just a question. I wasn’t like hitting on you. Plus, I thought you might want to get as much bang for your buck as possible. Since, you know, you’re stressed about the cost of maintaining my lady bits.”

“I’m not stressed! I was just say…Please stop talking,” he ushered me towards the door.

“Fine, but can I at least have ice cream now?”

“What are you five?”

“I just had a metal duck head inside my guts. I think I’m entitled.”

“Fine-a. We can git gelato on the way home.”

I would be free for another year, given that my results come back as normal.

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4 thoughts on “Going To The OBGYN Is A Lot Like Trying On Shoes Only Not At All

  1. Pippa Pirrip

    Love this!

    Depending on the doctor, im either the gynecologist’s favorite or worst patient. I never use the cover-up sheet, i cant understand the point! I mean, I’ve seen my own vulva & the doctor’s about to see more of my insides than I ever will, so who are we hiding it from? I always ask to see interns for check-ups, I figure that they need practice & I’m not shy, so I’m good to practice on. When the doctor arrives, I will proceed to recount the fact that I’ve been with more women than men & explain that I once was so epically slutty, there’s a chance that i may be able to compete with him/her on who’s had contact with the most vaginas. Toss in as many vagina jokes as I can think of at the moment, at least half of which are inappropriate, and I end by doing my level best to get the doc to high-5 me when it’s over.

    Reply
    1. M.E. Evans Post author

      hahaha! Ah, I wish we lived in the same city. This would be an excellent coffee conversation (where the other patrons would just glare at us because “vagina,” is a scary word). I have an amazing visual of you sprawled on a table high-fiving your doctor. I thought the same thing about the scratchy sheet. And the gown. Maybe it’s for women who haven’t seen their own vaginas? Or maybe to protect them from the site of the doctor murdering it with the duck bills?

      Reply
      1. Pippa Pirrip

        That would be the best coffee chat ever. I can so clearly imagine the looks on the faces of the bourgie upper-middle class suburban moms with their perfect makeup and incredibly complex latte order.

        Someone told me that you’re covered for your privacy in case someone walks into the room during your exam. Frankly, I think that’s bullshit because A) no one has ever, or should ever, walk into the room while I’m getting my cervix scraped, and B) If someone walks in on me getting a flu shot unannounced I’m going to be every bit as pissed off about the violation as I am about them seeing my crotch. Actually, their embarrassment about walking in on a naked patient might make it more worthwhile for me. But I’m clearly a freak.

        One of the funniest things I’ve ever been told by a gynecologist is that apparently most women, when they fold their clothes up on the chair, they hide their panties and sometimes even their bra. The doc thought it was hilarious that here she’s about to see your cervix and you’re hiding your panties from her because that’s just too delicate.

  2. Pingback: Does This Cup Make My Vagina Look Huge? | The Dichotomy Of Crazy

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