The gynocologist, though? You walk in awkward as all hell because you know what your fate will be in a just a few short minutes... but you're more fresh than you've been in God knows how long because you've showered for an hour and scrubbed the shit out of your soon to be examined crotch. Then, a nurse asks you questions to which the answers you don't even want to admit to yourself... let alone some judging stranger. You know, the whole gyno crew does nothing but judge all day. Don't judge me... sex is natural AND I think that some of your judgement comes from the fact that you're stuck in a shitty, monogamous relationship that has been on a down hill spiral since 1992.
Q:Do I ALWAYS use condoms?
A:No. I'm a suffering college student; I can't afford that shit. Not to mention, sex is a rarity... if there isn't protection at my immediate disposal, I'm not going slam the breaks and hope that a reoccurance doesn't hibernate for ANOTHER twelve months.
Q:Do Iknow the repercussions of my actions?
A:I'm not eight anymore... yes, I know what can happen. But sex feels so much better (and it flows more fluidly) without the smelly cum catchers in the picture.
Q:Am I ready to deal with the consequenses?
A:Fuck no, I'm not ready for a baby... but that sure as shit wasn't a part of my thought pattern at the time. I was acting in my natural animal instinct and taking care of business. Thank you, though, for reminding me that I am a twenty two year old piece of shit who lacks the physical means and mental maturity to care for herself, let alone another human life. Plus, I'm kind of banking on the fact that my body knows better than to allow any sort of fertilization to ensue.
Q:Does my partner have other partners?
A:Ugh, probably?... I don't know nor do I care to know.
Q (more of a statement/judgement that a question, but...):Well, dear, having this sort of conversation with your partner is very important.
A:Listen, lady... a girl's got needs and it's none of my business what my "partner" is doing when he isn't satisfying the aforementioned needs.
After this demeaning interview, you go into the exam room and that's when you enter true Hell on Earth. You're sitting there, embarrassed and naked... half exposed because the gown needs to be open in the front so that the doctor can fondle your boobies while trying to make the experience less constrained with terrible conversation ending with a (not-so-funny) joke about flopping your feet into the slings and skooching your bum to the edge of the table. Ugh, then the doctor breaks out the massive light the glares warm on all your unmentionables. As if the image isn't disgusting enough au naturel, the beaming imperfection finder picks out all of the super nasties by illuminating every this, that, and the next thing of your perineum.
"Alright, dear, now just spread your knees a little more.... a little more..... just a little more...." What the hell, doc? What on Earth could you be shoving up there that my legs need to be split and spread from sea to shining sea? Cheese and rice... the next few minutes are some of the most uncomfortable minutes in a girl's life. Minutes that she subconsciously dreads all year long. There is good news, though. My doctor told me that I had an "A+ vagina" (that damn judging again). I'm going to brag a bit and say that to have a vagina of such stature is quite the accomplishment... but who the fuck says that? What do you say back to something like that? Ugh... can I get dressed now? God, I hope I can get dressed now.
After the gyno, I went to my grandparent's house to get an adjustment from my pap - a chiropractor - since I've been sick. I told them where I was coming from and I got the third degree about being pregnant (they've got more bastard grandchildren than I can count on one hand). Again... there is good news. My grandma slipped a twenty into my cleavage (eeek, embarrassing). However, she told me that I should "try to" doll myself up and use the twenty to take a handsome young boy to lunch so that I'm not "alone" anymore. Jesus, do I look that desparate? Eff me... I bought a bottle of semi-decent wine for me, myself, and I instead.
Random things that I might want to recall/want to interweb to know:
1. My 83 year old grandfather made a facebook. There are just no words.... I am keeping my fingers crossed that he doesn't request my friendship because I will have no choice but to deny him.
2. I went to Babe's Bar last night... only the finest of Derry Area's establishment where only the classiest of people venture to sip the most ravishing of drinks (aka a shit hole with dirt floors where forty-something year old hicks with limited teeth drink mass amounts of the beer on special). I drank far too many beers, got hit on excessively by an old/married man, and witnessed a bar brawl that ended with the words: "Meet me at the little league field to settle this like real men, you chicken dick sucking mother fucker." Yeah...... Not to mention, I'm lucky to be alive after Tara's driving shananagins on the way home.
3. My mom found my sister's cherry flavored blunt wraps this morning. She thorougly inspected the tube and then asked, "Who's lip gloss is this?" Holy hell.... After Emily explained what they were, she had a minor freak out, saying that it was the same thing as having alcohol in the house for minors. My sister reassured that it wasn't like having the alcohol... it was more like having the shot glass.
4. Finally, I am avoiding my notes at all costs (as I'd rather fail my exams this week than study for them) by watching YouTube videos of Jeff Buckley. I'm confused and frustrated that the stupid site is telling me that some of the best songs are blocked in "my country". Now, I'z been all over this here world... and I've come to find that the U.S. of A. is the best country there ever was (derrrr). No, but really... why is it blocked in America? He was an American and his music is so beautiful that I just want to enjoy it. How can you block a country?
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