V-Day

V-day. It only comes around once a year. You put on your favorite bra and panties. You know, the only set you have that actually matches. Shave all your nooks and crannies. Including your big toe. Checking for any wild stray hairs around your nipples. Make sure that you don't forget the deodorant because you know you sweat when you get anxious. Cause today's not just any day. It's your pap smear. Otherwise known as, Vagina Day.

Me? I'm totally ambivalent about the sex of the person checking my coochie pop. Nor do I care if they're a nurse or a doctor. Maybe that makes me bi. I don't know. I don't really feel like I need to label myself. All I know is, the best pap smear I've ever had was given to me by a young male doctor in Hawaii. I even told him so when he was done. Which I instantly regretted as soon as it came out of my mouth, but the damage was already done. I sounded like a perv.

Today, I was seeing someone new, she's a nurse. I had a bad experience last time I was seen by a woman many years ago. She was rather rough with the cold speculum which meant I had no choice but to clench her head between my knees. Not that I intended to react that way, that's why it's called a reaction. I do hope she learned a valuable lesson in vaginal etiquette that day. Like, inform your patient that you're going in before you do. And for goodness sake, warm up your hands and speculum before you make crotch contact.

Likewise, I try my best to be courteous to the person who's got to look my va-jay-jay in the face. Taking special care that I'm appropriately groomed in the nether regions. That on the spectrum, I fall somewhere close to the middle between Hairy Mary and Bald Barry. That's not all, because sometimes they check the back door too. So, I also check for dingle berries and stray toilet paper pieces. Cause how embarrassing would that be? My biggest fear is that I'll pee on the person. They do say the greatest fear is fear itself. Although, I would argue it's golden showers. Unless that's eating chili the night before and farting mid exam. I'll have to re-think that.

When I finally get to the exam room awaiting my vaginal professional, I always change like I'm a Victoria's Secret runway model. You know, really fast, like you have to be ready in 3 seconds because someone could walk in on you at any second. Even though, I've made sure I don't have the panties with the blown out elastic on or the bra that got a bit eaten up when I accidentally put in the dryer. Even though I look as gyno-chic as possible, I still don't want anyone to actually catch a glimpse. It's just my back up plan in case they do. It's pretty likely that they'll see them in the heap of unfolded clothes I've hastily left in the corner.

I think sitting in a paper gown that opens to the front with my legs in stirrups looking directly at a cross section of a baby in the birth canal might be the best birth control. This, of course, is the moment I realize I forgot to take my Yaz this morning and when I see the socks I choose because they don't have a hole in them, actually do. At least I scrubbed my feet extra long in the shower so they don't smell. Even though I didn't extract the black sock lint out from underneath my unpolished toe nails. Which is why I'm not taking the holey socks off.

She arrives with a courteous knock. I'm always at a loss for exactly what to say in response. I'm dying to say, "Who's there?" But I'm trying to edit myself, so I don't say something stupid like... "How many different shades of pink nipples do you think there are? On a scale of 1 to 10 how does my vagina rate? What's the weirdest thing you've ever extracted from a vagina?" Cause that's what I really want to know. But, before I even had a chance to say something I'd totally regret later, wham, bam, thank you ma'am, she's already hit second base and rounded third. I'm done in less than 5 minutes.

I didn't even have time to tell her she won first runner up for my best pap ever.  Maybe next time.