It's My Vagina! Not an Excavation Tunnel to China

So, had my yearly pap the other day…

Let this be a lesson in what NOT to do for any future OB/GYN candidates out there.

            First, when going through the humdrum of the standard questioning of the last years' womanly issues, it helps if you can actually recall when I was in last. No it wasn't TWO years ago, it was last year. Hence the annual oil change. Had I popped out a baby you would've been the first to know since that is why I ultimately went with an OB/GYN, just in case I mistakenly get knocked up. You guys are supposed to know your shit about that stuff.  And thanks for the unsolicited need to tell me what I already know about smoking and birth control. I’m a fucking woman, who has been on birth control for half my life, I've read the inserts AND I’m a fucking nurse. Got it!

 Second, I love my computer as much as you obviously do, but it’s nice if you actually talk to me; you've just given new meaning to the term “My face is up here”.  

And third…

I swear my gynecologist should try his hand as a mechanic in the car pit at the Indy 500 speedway. I’m surprised I didn't hear the torque of the vagina spreader as he cranked me open. The man apparently has no varying speed settings other than Mach 5. Dude, sloooooow down! And if this is such a challenge for you, you should really invest in oh shit handles, since the white-knuckled hand gripping of the exam table on the one side and slapping of the wall on the other, gave you no indication that I really wasn't relishing, nor was my pleasure tunnel prepared for your foreplay-lacking Speedy Gonzalez advancement.  Could you maybe pause long enough for my seized up labia and vaginal muscles to relax for one fucking second? And what is it with not even warming up the god damn speculum in the first place? If I wanted frostbite up there, I’d sit on a pole out in the middle of nowhere on the east coast, where they’re enduring a polar vortex, or bring my own tank of liquid nitrogen to save you the trouble.

 I was also at a loss as to what the hell he uses to “swab” the cervix. It felt somewhat akin to a wire bristle brush or a metal replica of a pissed off porcupine being inserted ass first. I’m convinced if this year’s result is abnormal; it’s probably due to the fact that he collected bladder and colon cells as well. Oh did you discover urea and E. coli in the Pap smear stain? Wonder why? I swear I could feel your whipping cream-Kitchen-Aid-setting 10-like whisking up in my throat.

Then there was the breast exam. Were you having childhood nostalgia for inducing Indian Burns? I know you’re searching for those pesky and possibly hiding little lumps, but do you have to rake your fingers across my nipples like you’re trying to remove residual Gorilla tape adhesive? I think one of my nipples was actually pushed to a new position somewhere on my abdomen creating a new belly button; only this one’s an outie.

My poor body and in particular, coochie-coo! She was absolutely quivering with horror from this experience. In fact, it gets worse every year.  Going for my yearly oil change is turning into Valium-requiring events that I typically attribute to the dentist. Which leads me to wonder what the hell it is with orifices and the need for the pokers and prodders to give you Helga’s House of Torture-like pain? Is this a litmus test for something; never-ending pledging week for dental or gynecological professionals? Is this an attempt to convince a woman to actually have a child? Because these experiences OH!-so lead me to believe that child-birth “really isn't that bad”.

Why do people say "Grow some balls"? Balls are weak and sensitive! If you really wanna get tough, grow a vagina! Those things take a pounding! -Betty White

She’s fucking right!

Time for a new and nice vaginal medical professional; I fear if I stay with this guy any longer, my box is going to fold up like a terrorized turtle and just suddenly fall out of me like Wiley E. Coyote trying to drop an anvil on Road Runner. Any suggestions? J