Yesterday I made an appointment with my friendly neighborhood...ahem...crotch doctor. We [women] are supposed to go once a year, but somehow time flew by and I avoided the situation altogether for the past three years.
I went to the Blue Cross website and basically looked for a female doctor near my zip code and found one near the new(ish) mall. I got all my various numbers and dates together and called to set a date after lunch.
When the receptionist answered the phone, she asked all the standard questions (you women know what those are) and then asked how long it had been since I'd seen my friendly neighborhood crotch doctor. To my reply of "Mmm, three years," she gasped in shock and commented, "Well, we have a 3:45 slot for you TODAY! You don't need to wait ANY longer!"
Way to make a girl feel calm, eh? It's not like my uterus has fallen out in the past year or anything.
I considered the fact that my paycheck wouldn't clear until Wednesday and set an appointment for then instead. [I vowed some time back to never again float a check--especially not with all that electronic processing crap they're doing now.]
I'm not excited. I feel like a small child whose parent has threatened to take them to the dentist for the first time.
I'm contemplating not shaving.
Posted by Tiffany at November 30, 2004 08:52 AM