Much less gynecologists. Seriously, the annual itself is uncomfortable enough without adding a cute MD to the mix. Granted, there’s nothing sexy about powder-free rubber gloves and specula (unless you’re into that sort of thing), but hellooo doctor. If only I wasn’t in such a compromising position during our meetings.And then there are the “routine questions” surely created to remind me of how much action I’ve had in the past year:
Dr. McCutie: So any new boyfriends?
Me: No.
Dr. McCutie: Are you still taking the same birth control pills?
Me: No, actually. I stopped taking them a year ago.
Dr. McCutie: Ok, so when you and your boyfriend have sex—
Me: Actually, I don’t have a boyfriend anymore.
Dr. McCutie: Oh ok. Then let me cross that out here. (Proceeds to cross off last year’s response.) So when you have sex what kind of birth control do you use?
Me: Actually I haven’t really had…
Dr. McCutie: Ok…but you know if you were to have sex you should use a condom.
Me: (to self) Kill me please?
So after the exam I started thinking: what makes a guy want to become a gynecologist in the first place (aside from the perverted obvious)? Do they get so sick and tired of staring down there that their own sex lives suffer? Or do they know what to do just because they’ve studied it so much? Better yet, how on Earth do their wives handle their profession?
And finally, somebody please tell me why they feel it’s perfectly ok to strike up a convo about randomness when you’re in the most vulnerable position ever?! Work is fine, now shut up so I can pretend this is not happening right now.
Image: myspace.com