The Date

So, I made an appointment with my doctor for...you know…the yearly physical thing. As an aside, I have the BEST doctor in the world. She’s wonderful. A great listener, really patient and a genuinely good person.

Except now she’s gone and gotten herself pregnant. PREGNANT! Which means she’ll be off for, like, a WHOLE YEAR! I mean, seriously. Could she be any more SELFISH?

Anyhow, I realized that preparing for the upcoming dread with the doctor takes just about as much effort – if not MORE effort – as going on a date. Because heaven forbid the doctor see your unshaved legs! Or armpits! Or other areas I won't mention. Or those rogue hairs that you haven’t plucked in months because you don’t have a boyfriend to see them. And do you ever clean your ears with as much vigour as when you are going to see the doctor?

So I told this to my doctor. And she said, and I quote “Believe me, we don’t notice. Our attentions are focused…elsewhere.”

Oh God. Geez. Now I’m thinking I should go get a Brazilian or something.

Thank goodness I'm not a doctor. Because I would notice. And then I would NEVER be able to stop thinking about it.

And that's where I'll stop. Right there. Because if I don't, I know I'll just keep going. And NO ONE wants that.

Believe me.