okay, friends, it’s time to get personal.
i think there’s something wrong with me. i love to read horror stories from the gyno. and if you are a mamablog reader, or if you have any friends who have had babies, you’ve heard at least one. stories of farting during an exam. even stories of women shooting speculums clear across the room (a talent y’all can only wish you had…). most women i know get nervous before dropping their drawers and putting their feet up in stirrups. i mean, that’s normal, right? showing off your nethers to another person should be saved for the bedroom, not for some person you barely know. am i right or am i right?
but, i, alas, am not even remotely leery of the gynocologist. in fact, i am completely unbothered by the entire process. strip down to nothing but socks? sure thing! put your feet in these lovely stirrups? yes, ma’am (and by the way, at the new women’s clinic i’ve been going to…they put oven mitts on the stirrups. nice touch, no?) open wide? you got it.
i don’t know. i guess maybe it’s because i’ve had three babies. i’ve had more people gawking and assessing my vah-jay-jay than i care to even try to count. i’ve nursed three children. i’ve whipped out my boobies to unsuspecting strangers if i thought they could help me at the time. i’ve gotten many a brazilian wax and dropped trou for the waxer.
it’s interesting because i’m so self conscious of my body. i mean, in the gym, i cover up as much as possible while i’m changing. i’m not one of those prancers who walks around naked. i mean, there are women who blow their hair dry in nothing but a thong. not i. i am like a preteen in summer camp. i face the wall (as if facing the wall somehow makes me invisible) and change my clothing as quickly as possible. i can even do this fancy move where i put my lululemon pants (love!) on before i take off my skirt so no one can see. (this is also because i occasionally – well, erm, mostly – don’t wear underwear)
but ask me to pull out the you-know-what, and i’ve got no problems. i’m more likely to show you my unmentionables than my flabby tummy. interesting, that.
anyway, point of the story…i know you’re looking for one…
the point was the i went this week to get my mirena IUD put in. i got in the room. stripped down. when the doctor walked in, she was all "no don’t be nervous…just relax your legs" and i was all "let’s get on with this sista" i’ve got errands to run. she commented how surprised she was at my easy-going attitude. she said that most women come in very inhibited and full of nerves. not me, i said.
you know why? because i never have to take another birth control pill in my life. and THAT’S totally worth getting naked for.
song of the day: It’s a Chris Daughtry montage! ah!
video of the day: Tyra always has something to say…
come on over and see me at Cheaper Than Therapy. you know you wannnnnnna…
hey ali,i may not enjoy the yearly pap but i’m not to nervous about it.like you said when you’ve had a couple of kids you don’t much care whos looking down there!when i’ve gone to the gym in the past i am always extremely uncomfortable.and wear the baggiest clothes and change in the toilet.guess thats why the gym isn’t for me.
Can’t say I don’t tense up a little but after 2 kids and many years of “exams” I am not too bothered. I wouldn’t say I prance naked in the changeroom either but don’t face the wall.
One recent incident did make me uncomfortable though and I was disturbed by my own discomfort. I LOVE getting a massage. I mean LOVE. I have had massage at spas, at chiropractor offices, at wellness centres across Canada and the U.S. while pregnant and not. I find it so relaxing and definitely something I look forward to. However, recently I booked myself an hour and a half massage while on vacation. Boy, was I psyched. I got there and waited for my therapist. Ahhh…it was just a matter of minutes before I could really relax.
Then, he came over and introduced himself. I mean, I have had male massage therapists before but this guy was, like, 23…and likely hetero. It was a good massage but I couldn’t totally relax. I kept wondering if my butt crack was showing and whether my thighs looked gross. I hadn’t shaved my legs that morning either. I mean, they weren’t hairy ’cause I had shaved them the night before but they weren’t exactly silky smooth either. Then I would ask myself “why do I care?” I was in no way attracted to this guy and I am sure he felt the same but, still, he wasn’t naked…I was. Anyway, it was weird because I was self-conscious and couldn’t help but wonder what was going through his mind.
Strange?