When Even An Apple A Day Won't Save You

I had my first Girly Doctor appointment yesterday. Yes, yesterday was the die...er, day. Freudian slip. What a feast for the senses that was!

There were cold things, wet things, clanky things, chemically-smelling things. Everything I dreamed and more.

I got there early because apparently, I needed extra time to obsess and FREAK THE EFF OUT. Seriously. I know I had that deer in headlights look about me because as soon as I walked in the place, the lady at the desk was all, "You've never been here before, have you?" So I filled out all the personal questions on the paperwork and tried to calm myself down by reading short stories on the Kindle app of my iTouch while I waited. Newsflash: It did not work.

Desk Lady finally calls me back and weighs me and Jesus Tapdancing Christ, I gained 10 pounds since the last time I weighed myself (I don't remember the exact date, but it's been a few months, okay?) so ha-fucking-HA! to my boyfriend who insisted that I wasn't getting fat. I win, Corey! I. WIN! Except really, nobody wins. Because I am still fat.

Anyway, they take my blood pressure and I'm so nervous that Desk Lady tells me it's abnormally high. DUH! And then she's all, "Get completely undressed and put on this tissue paper vest thing making sure that the openpart goes in the front so you totally look like Fat Pasty Aladdin with an estrogen issue. It's not long enough to cover your doughy ass, so for modesty purposes here's this sheet made out of paper towels." That may not be exactly what she said. I was nervous and shit gets hazy.

So I took my time changing. I folded each item of clothing. I considered wearing my hoodie over the vest thing under the guise of being cold. I hid my understuff between my skirt and sweater (because nobody needed to know that I mismatched). And while I was taking part in this shenanigans, Doctor Lady totally knocked and then opened the door....and then quickly shut it.

And all I could say was, "Uh....I'm almost..uh ready."

Then I sat down on the paper-covered table (Doctors' offices are single-handedly killing the rain forests with their paper consumption, yo.), pulled my Bounty blanket over my lap, folded my arms and sat. For a long time before Doctor Lady finally got up the courage to come back.

Maybe I cried a little. Maybe just a little. Because I was scared. Whatever, you don't know me!

Doctor Lady finally comes back in and asks a few questions and punches me in the chest a bit to make sure I don't have The Cancer, which I don't (bonus!) and before I know it she's all, "Put your feet in these thingies which are like, a mile away from where your feet end when you are lying on this table because you're so effing short." I had to scoot wayyyyy down, y'all.

So then Doctor Lady starts making all kinds of noise down there. Metallic noises. Like she was making chain mail or something. And I get curious and look down to see what she's doing and she's holding something that looks like the trigger of a caulk gun. And she tells me I'm gonna feel some pressure.

Pressure? Pressure does not accurately describe what I felt. What I felt was more like...cold and...pinchy and...ohmygod I have to pee like RIGHTNOW!

But all in all, Doctor Lady was quick and nice and smelled like Katie (Light Blue by Dolce and Gabbana) so I guess my experience wasn't all that bad after all.

Plus, she gave me Motrin 800 (What are the odds? Four days after I take myself off Motrin 800 because my hip is feeling better!), Vicodin (not sharing) and Birth Control so I don't get ungodlyexcruciatingdebilitating cramps!

Or, you know, babies.

Love,
Katie