"Suck my fat one, you cheap dime store hood"…and other things I’ve told my gynecologist.Submitted by AllyJeans at 2005-12-22 15:12:30 EST
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You know how awkward it is to be up on a table with your legs akimbo—your day riding on what a balding Asian man will have to say when he pops up, turns off his coal mining hat, and gives you the low down on your low down. It’s like waiting for someone to hand you a Christmas present, and imaging how many different ways it will try to bite your tit off when you pull off the bow.
Most women have normal worries when they get checked up, like cancer and vagina froth, but I worry about impossible things—like being told my cervix is shrinking, or that my hymen grew back. Remember that Twilight Zone episode with the pig faces? I have nightmares about it—about pig nurses surrounding my bed and making “tut, tut” noises. When I ask what’s the problem, they pull up their dresses and squeal, “it’s supposed to look like this,” revealing cauliflower vaginas shaped like inverted horseshoes. It’s then when I wake up screaming. Each time I expect to see the devil sitting at the foot of my bed, chiding, “Where is your god now?”
The root of my paranoia would have to be my grandmother. When I was 16, my mother decided to take me to me for my first appointment for with a OB-GYN. It wasn’t that I was sexually active; it was that all my friends were. She figured that sooner or later I’d say, “What the hell,” and join in a massive orgy. My grandmother, on the other hand, was totally against it. She thought that gynecology was nothing but an excuse for perverts to get their fill of female genitalia. Along with vivid descriptions of stretching and friction, she made all sorts of wild gestures and facial contortions. I’ve been fucked up ever since.
During winter break for college (I think it was 2002), I went to my doctor for a refill on my birth control. I’d rather do without the exam, but it’s my deal with the devil: one year of pills for 15 minutes of anxiety. Of course, there’s some soreness afterwards, but I always tell people I spent the day at a dude ranch and chuckle when they invariably bring up Ted and Melody. What a tragic couple…
Anyway, the day of my appointment I was more nervous than usual. After my checkup, I had a meeting with my current boss—the man who was recruiting me for my first job out of college. At the time, it felt like my whole future. Considering I still work there, it is. I kept flashing from images of speculums, to handshakes, to slips of paper with dollar signs, to bigger speculums. By the time they called my name I was totally wound up. I could have sprinted and performed a back flip onto the exam table. Instead, I started getting chatty.
“Hi doc, how’s it going, great weather, do you think it will rain tomorrow, you can’t trust the weathermen you know…”
I’m sure he was used to people being nervous, but I was off the wall. The doc kept nodding and checking my file; I kept talking and looking around the room like a caged animal. Before I knew it, I was on the table with my legs in the stirrups. I didn’t even know how I got there. It was somewhere between the weather and the escaped monkey molester that was making his way up the coast. I tried to get it together. I started focusing on the wall
“So Ally, how is school?”
I blinked. What is the fuck is school? Who is Ally?
He coughed. “Getting lots of Aces?”
He must have meant A’s. I don’t know; what I do know is that it triggered a memory for “Stand by Me,” one of my all time favorite movies. I started giggling.
“Shoot everyone...? No Ace, just you.”
I felt the doc pause.“What?”
“It’s a quote from ‘Stand by Me.’”
He got quiet, but I found something to grab on to and my brain would let go. With the doc in the position, he was in and my weird mental state, I couldn’t help myself.
I deepened my voice. “Sick balls, Chopper!”
It seemed like the funniest thing in the world because I had no balls.
The doc tried to laugh. “I never saw that movie.”
“You’re kidding. It’s a classic. It has Keifer Sutherland, Corey Feldman, Wil Wheaton…”
“Oh, maybe I did see that…which one was Whiton?
“Wheaton! Oh my God. He was badass. He was the kid who performed the greatest train dodge ever!”
He laughed. “Sorry, not ringing any bells.”
"He played Gordie Lachance, he wanted to be a writer…remember?”
“No, it just isn’t…”
“Come on! He had tons of memorable lines.”
“‘SUCK MY FAT ONE, YOU CHEAP DIME STORE HOOD!’”
He popped up looking startled. I quickly realized I had yelled it and the people in the waiting room might have heard me. My mind was still a little screwy so I shouted at the wall.
“It’s OK, we’re talking about Wil Wheaton!”
The doc quickly took his gloves off. “I think we’re done Ally. Everything looks fine. Here your script.” He wrote it quickly and dropped it on my chest. I was still lying on the table.
“Ok, doc…so I can go?” Normally we talk in his office following the exam.
“Yes.” He started rubbing his head. “I’ll go and let you get dressed.”
He nervously grabbed the file and walked into his office.
After getting myself together, I walked out the opposite door and into the waiting room. I got some looks as people glanced up from their questionnaires and magazines. I smiled and plucked the collar of my shirt up. They quickly looked away, but it made me laugh. On the way out, I wanted to shout some more quotes, but I realized I did enough damage. I saved them for my meeting with my boss, who happened to be a huge fan of “Stand By Me.”