Wednesday, November 19, 2008

The Vagina Monologues

"Can I talk to you now?" He asked facetiously, a smirk emblazoned across his face. "After all, it’s been more than three years."

"No!" I responded firmly, glaring at him through the hills created by my stirruped legs. "Look Star, just get on with it!"

That is an extract from a snarly conversation that I had with my gynecologist today.

Though I had given him my explicit rules when we initiated our relationship more than three years ago, I cannot begin to fathom why he would erroneously conclude that time would mellow my requirements as to how he is to administer my check up. I figured that he is getting complacent as our relationship has progressed, and as such, he had to be set firmly in his place. I also wanted to launch a well placed kick from the confines of a stirrup, when I realized that my response did not faze him one bit, as he had emitted an unrepentant chuckle.

The man seems to find some source of amusement at my discomfort, as evidenced by his ridiculous whistling as he pokes and prods. I just want to slap him. And then, he has the nerve to initiate conversation today! Two slaps!

Call it my own brand of insecurity (though I call it plain common sense), but why the heck would I want to engage in casual banter with the man as he delves between my nether regions with metallic weapons of crotch destruction, and nary a bit of pleasure am I to get from it?

There layeth I: legs hoisted in metallic stirrups, gazing resignedly at the ceiling, working to find my Zen-like happy place through the mechanism of counting the moldy ceiling tiles as I ponder: is mine like everyone else’s? Is it too big? Too small? Well maintained? Has he seen better or worst? Has he ever been blown away by its extraordinary quality? Is there a significant improvement from last year? Does his wife benefit sexually from his medical expertise? Is one just like the other?

Prior to each visit, paranoia, pride and insecurity will always drive me to ensure that it is well groomed. I even try to refrain from peeing before he has a chance to look at it, for I don’t know the impact that my pee and required wiping may have on its aesthetics.

I was in the supermarket the other day, contemplating the purchase of fresh vegetables which will eventually rot in the confines of my refrigerator, when I looked up, and his and mine eyes made four. I paled, panicked, and fled.

There was I, dressed and feeling all prissy and dainty, and this man who had and will see me nekkid every year; he who has assessed the inner workings of my unmentionables; he who knows the ins and outs of my cycle; he who felt and knew of the sensitivities of my boobs, and asked questions that not even my significant other would be privy to, could never engage me in casual conversation or even a greeting over fresh broccoli. Oh, hell no!

And on that decidedly prudish note, I shall now exit.


'Fro.

Ginger




















14 comments:

Leon said...

Love the title. Takes a strong man to have that kind of job.

Will said...

nary??? did you just use the word "nary"???

you are officially my guru...

now on to more... erm... meatier matters (giggle)...

next time you see him in a supermarket, shopping mall or porn theatre, i suggest you just go brave... walk right up to him and say: "hey doc, how ya goin? interacted with any intriguing vaginae lately?" it'll break the ice i'm sure...

oh... and kudos to you on keeping everything well landscaped before a visit... i'm sure he appreciates these small considerations... imagine having to blaze through a jungle to get to the source of life??? how much easier if it's just winking up at you...

i feel very very inappropriate right now... i'm going to say my rosary... excuse me...

Mighty Afroditee said...

@Leon: Never thought of it like that.

@Will: No need to feel inappropriate. All you men need to realise the horrors associated with maintenance. And be thankful, I did not even go into intricate detail. Wait til I do the post on female menstruation! That will be soooo exciting and enlightening for you! Take one of your happy pills as you say the rosary...t'will make you feel even more better! Tee hee...

Abeni said...

lol,funny enough a lot of women I know hate to visit the male gyno. I would imagine the woman gyno woul dbe worse cos you knowhow we women luv to critique the competition:)

Rev Island said...

A lie. A true?

Anonymous said...

MA, you a di best! This one cracked me up. Anxiously await the post of menstruation ... that should be very interesting.

I actually don't mind going to the gyno ... mine is quite cute and I owe him my 2 children (indirectly) so he can poke and prod me any time :)

cool destiny said...

Last comment from CD ... don't know what happened there.

Stunner said...

LMAO!!!!

Mad Bull said...

Very interesting stuff. I believe a lot of women take this approach to gynaes. Also to psychiatrists. "Oh my God! If I tell him hi, people will think I am visiting him! Well, actually, I am visiting him, but then they will think I am crazy! Well, I am crazy, but I am not mad! Well..."
You know what I mean.

Trouble said...

Please change "worst" to worse... it's buggin' me...

BTW, all vaginas are different, it's everything attached to them that's the same...

Marc M said...

Hey Afroditee, how you doing? I found your post bold and insightful and also funny. Must have been awkward running into him at the supermarket, and I bet he does takes some guilty pleasure in his job.

gishungwa said...

I hate small talk. do your thing and leave. I so feel you on this one.

bakannal said...

aye gyal! did u know its 2009?

Ruthibelle said...

LOL! No small talk. There should be a sign in the office.

@Will: yes she used the word 'nary'. I noticed it too... and it's not the first either!!