Wild women need to take care of our bodies. We need to have annual checkups, visit our dentist, have bone density test as we get “more seasoned” in years, and of course, the two dreaded visits: having the “I feel like an IHOP pancake” mammogram, and the mother of all annuals, the Pap smear. My friends, anyone who tells you it’s easier to bend over and cough… well… they just don’t have the ovaries to understand it now, do they?
Last Friday, bright and early, I jump in the shower and get ready for my appointment. Naturally, one MUST ensure one’s legs are utterly hairless. It’s just too embarrassing to have unsightly stubble when you’re lying there with your feet in the stirrups – giddyap, buttercup! Showered? Check. Shaved? Check. Pretty matching undies and not-too-goofy socks? Check. Oh c’mon now, you know your Mama taught you to always wear pretty, clean undies in case you ever had an accident! But I digress…
I open my back door and lo and behold, I’m in the middle of a freak snowstorm that looks like it’s about to become a full-blown blizzard. Sigh… my day off, when I could have been asleep in bed or snuggled up reading a good book with a steaming cup of tea, and I’m trudging out for the glorious “schooch on down” anticipated-for-a-year appointment. Do I know how to party or what?
Fast forward to the doctor’s office. I am very blessed to have the coolest, female primary care physician who also does “the annual”. She’s beautiful, hysterically funny and the kind of gal pal you’d like to have at your girls’ night out parties. I can’t tell you what a difference that makes at times like this. Well, she’s just moved into new offices, and her adorable and young assistant walks me into “the room”, where she takes my vitals and gives me one of those FABulous designer paper gowns with the oh-so-so peek-a-boo fronts. Fredericks of Hollywood (remember them) ain’t got nuthin’ on whoever cut these things out of the leftover roll of cheap paper towels, let me tell you! So there I am, waiting patiently in nothing more than my little socks, my tres chic paper gown (hmmm… maybe I’ll take it home and save it for the next big party), and a smile.
A soft knock at the door… and in walks my friend Dr. Fabulous with her light-up-the-room personality and smile, and we start joking and laughing as we rearrange the table for me to “assume the position” (and you KNOW what I mean). Well, you know that little tray-like silver thingie they pull out from the bottom of the table (what, are we going to serve mimosas during this… hmmm.. well, if anyone is getting this close to me, I would think a drink would be in order, wouldn’t you) But again, I digress… So back to this little silver tray thingie. Doc is having a bit of a problem getting it to work, so just as I get into position, she says to her assistant, (I kid you not)… “Hey, can you go get me the WD-40” SERIOUSLY? WHAT? ARE YOU KIDDING ME? Naturally, I have to comment so I ask her, “WD-40? Has it come to that? Exactly how big is that speculum?” At this point I suddenly feel like a car about to get jacked up so the wheel can be changed! By this time the three of us (no, no… her assistant and us, not the speculum) are howling with laughter, tears pouring down our faces. “Yep… yep… yep… that’s one I’ve never heard in a doctor or OB/GYN’s office before, Doc!” I exclaim.
As you may have guessed, the WD40 was for the silver tray thingie, by the way. And as a side note, have you ever really looked at one of those specula-thing-ah-ma-bobs? They look strangly similar to either two shoe horns stuck together back-to-back or the beak of a duck! No wonder you have the urge to scream something that sounds like AAAAAflak! when one of those bad boys is slipped into place!
We settle in to finish up the job (I think I’ll refer to her office as my local Jiffy Lube center from now on) and I think she got me back because I’m sure she put that speculum in the freezer before she made use of it! Can you spell “peel me off the ceiling”? I warned her I was going to write about this, but am not naming names although I would love to recommend her to all my wild women friends because she is just the BEST! So, as I ever-so-elegantly dressed and waddled out of her office, ouch-ouch-ouch…. we parted ways for another year, still laughing. I think she should send me flowers, don’t you?
The point, my dearest wild women, is that (1) be sure you get your annuals this year, because it’s the only body you have and you need to take care of it; and (2) there is joy and funny moments in even the most mundane or bizarre moments in life. So try to find the humor wherever you go today. Laughter is the best medicine!