There’s nothing quite like heading in for a gynecologist appointment.
Although, as I write this, I’m not entirely sure if guys have something like that.
It’s moments like this that I sit here wondering how I’ve gone through 41 years of life and have no idea if guys have to go to a guy doctor or not. I’m guessing this is one of those questions that you say, “I have a stupid question…” in the hopes that whoever you’re asking responds with an open-minded, “Oh, no! That’s not a stupid question!”
“Babe, do guys have a guy doctor they go to like we go to gyno’s?”
“No. Our parts are on the outside. We know what’s goin’ on with ours.”
And, then he laughed to himself and exited the room.
I’m guessing he did that thinking to himself, “Wow, that was a stupid question.”
Well, that mystery’s solved, I guess.
You are welcome.
Anyway, I don’t think I’m the only woman out there who weighs themself on a regular basis but, for some reason, enters a concentrated panic all morning until their appointment because they know the very first thing that happens at the office is a weigh in. It doesn’t make any sense because I know how much I weigh at my regular time, every morning, under almost the exact same conditions every time I step on the exact same scale.
So, why in the world do I care what I weigh at 11:45am after I’ve eaten, drank fluids, exercised and am wearing a full-blown outfit in the wintertime? Why is it that I take great lengths to eat and drink the bare minimum until I make contact with that scale and try as hard as I can to not look at what the number says, even though that’s an impossible battle with my eyes that I never, ever win?
At least I make up for it with my blood pressure; because in the back of my head I am praying that my good blood pressure number will reassure the nurse that the reason I weigh so much is because I am active and fit and strong…and, not because I am overweight for my height. Which I am sure she’s not really thinking…but, she definitely is.
Now, I’ve been pregnant 6 times (4 healthy deliveries and 2 miscarriages). So, I’m no stranger to an OB/GYN’s office room. But, I don’t think I have ever once walked into one of those rooms and not laughed out loud when I laid eyes on the oven mitts on the exam table stir-ups.
I mean, they’re messing with us, right? Like, I am sure some company somewhere has devised something more professional to cover the foot holders than oven mitts. That has to be a joke, right?
You know what? I’m gonna’ stop right there because I just “educated” Ben on all of the things that the doctor has to do to us during an annual check-up…lucky me, there was a student shadowing her today during my appointment…and, he looked super uncomfortable.
Can you even imagine what it takes at this point to make Ben uncomfortable with something I say?
That’s why I’m going to just let the rest of that appointment lay to rest.
Again, you are welcome.