I have my annual today. That's what we women call it, the "annual", because it's a tad more classy than "the dr appt where they root around in my hoo-ha", plus we're supposed to go once a year.
Although for me it's been 2 and a half years, so now what should I call it? Annual isn't quite accurate. Dr appointment. Dr appointment works.
You prepare like you would for a date, have to shave, get nice and clean, pretty panties and maybe a spritz of perfume? No that might have unforseen burning consequences later.
And then I berate myself for making my appointment in the afternoon. How am I supposed to stay nice and fresh all damn day? Perhaps I could just not go to the bathroom all day. But no. Damn you coffee and your laxative properties. So then it's the neurotic wipe and check, because nobody wants to gross out the doctor. I prefer to just gross out my blog readers thank you very much.
So then I comfort myself by spending all day looking around at all the other women in the world. THAT woman has to go for her annual sometime, and also THAT woman. What am I so worried about? And what in the world possesses someone to go into that line of work anyways? Yuck.
2 hours ago