There are two occasions for which I wear slip on shoes, a pair of unholey socks, shave my legs, slap on a matching bra and panties and pluck that stray nipple hair. And it just so happens those two occasions were scheduled to be two consecutive days this week. My pap smear and a laser hair removal treatment of my bikini region.
It's really quite a vulnerable position to have someone looking at your hoohaa at eye level especially under ultra exposing fluorescent lighting. That's not even the worst of it, then there's your butt hole to think about. Which is exactly what I was thinking about when I went for my last laser treatment.
As I was walking out the door, after several trips to the bathroom to ensure I wouldn't pee on the laser technician, I considered maybe it wasn't a good idea to have leftover cauliflower soup for lunch pretreatment. Because everyone knows cauliflower induces gas. And the last thing I want to do is inadvertently let a fart slip out with the tech's face right there.
When I got to the mall, where the clinic is, I felt the urge. Oh shit! Yup, I had to shit. This wasn't in the plan at all. I had already gone to the bathroom and wet wiped myself to absolute lemony freshness. But, I couldn't wait until my treatment was done. And what if I didn't take care of it and then had an emergency in the treatment room. Which makes me think of no short than 10 embarrassing scenarios that could occur. And all of them way too graphic and horrific to put into words.
So, I stop to drop a deuce in the ladies room at the mall. When my kids were little I always kept wet wipes in my purse. But, not anymore. Dammit. This means I need to wipe my ass like a million times with that super cheap one ply shit that is amazingly abrasive. I mean for one ply. Really, how impressive is that? Finally, after wiping, checking the paper to make sure there is absolutely no trace of any fecal matter whatsoever, my butt hole is completely raw. And I'm positive it's some shade of crimson. Or fuchsia. I don't know for sure, cause I can't see it.
But the tech is about to see it in about 5 minutes. What is she going to think? I have hemorrhoids? Or worse. That I just did butt stuff. Not that there's anything wrong with that. But she already knows how I groom my pubes. That I have a penchant for argyle. And a freckle right there. Yes there. I prefer her not to have any more information on me than she already does.
Finally, I'm in the room. My anus still throbbing from excessive, vigorous wiping underneath the one ply paper gown that is somehow softer than the toilet paper I used. Then I did what I always do in awkward occasions, I tried to make her laugh. And if there is one thing that will take your mind off of whether or not you still have some poop on your butt, it's making the tech who has a hot laser in your crotch miss her target.
LIFE LESSON: Do not under any circumstances make the laser technician who is doing your brazilian treatment laugh.
P.S. I lied. There are are actually three occasions. The other one is TSA. Cause you just never know when they're going to have to do a cavity search. I like to be prepared.