How bad are gynecologist examinations?
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AlteredEgo
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Most of the time my kitchen looks fine to me. My sink is empty, my counters are wiped. Then it happens. Someone asks me to sell them food. I try to keep from accepting paid wedding cake requests because flawless delivery is full of tiny nightmares, and my friends and relatives don't understand why I won't give discounts on sculpture cakes or wedding cakes. They balk when the proposal quotes $10/per chocolate rose, for example. They ask why am I going to have to charge $150 for the custom, edible cake topper. Why I'm agreeing to free delivery (a psychological trick I play on myself so I get it right) but charge $50 to show up and cut wedding cake.
I don't think about any of these kinds of details when someone reminds me it's so-and-so's birthday and asks if I'll bring cake to the surprise party. I look at my schedule, and my clean kitchen, and get it done. I do not charge for a simple special occasion cake for someone in my clique. The second my money is on the table, it is a whole different thing. I empty my kitchen, which suddenly is full of health code violations, gluten contamination if I promised gluten free, and flith. I scour every surface and utensil. Not a trace of dust or grain can remain. Not a single pet hair in the room. My animals are banned from the area until the product is out of the house. I clean the seals of my refrigerator, even if I just did them (I do it every three months anyway, right when I change my tooth brush). I disassemble my light fixtures and scour the parts as well. I vacuum my air filters. I put out peanut butter scented glue traps and hang fly strips, just in case. I position powerful fans in front of my exterior doors, also just in case. I turn my perfectly good residential kitchen into something that would pass muster for a commercial inspection (minus having the wrong kind of vents and no cages on my lights). I eye my space, tools, and craft like a pro, because I've been paid to do so. But if you're just coming over for coffee and I'm laying out a cookie platter? Because I love you, or kinda like you? I'm not going to do all of that. I'm going to empty my sink, mop my floor, wipe my counters, and get some cookies onto a plate. Wanna know what "made with love" tastes like? Health code violations, just like your Grandma used to make.
There is a difference between a professional approach, and an intimate one.
I don't think about any of these kinds of details when someone reminds me it's so-and-so's birthday and asks if I'll bring cake to the surprise party. I look at my schedule, and my clean kitchen, and get it done. I do not charge for a simple special occasion cake for someone in my clique. The second my money is on the table, it is a whole different thing. I empty my kitchen, which suddenly is full of health code violations, gluten contamination if I promised gluten free, and flith. I scour every surface and utensil. Not a trace of dust or grain can remain. Not a single pet hair in the room. My animals are banned from the area until the product is out of the house. I clean the seals of my refrigerator, even if I just did them (I do it every three months anyway, right when I change my tooth brush). I disassemble my light fixtures and scour the parts as well. I vacuum my air filters. I put out peanut butter scented glue traps and hang fly strips, just in case. I position powerful fans in front of my exterior doors, also just in case. I turn my perfectly good residential kitchen into something that would pass muster for a commercial inspection (minus having the wrong kind of vents and no cages on my lights). I eye my space, tools, and craft like a pro, because I've been paid to do so. But if you're just coming over for coffee and I'm laying out a cookie platter? Because I love you, or kinda like you? I'm not going to do all of that. I'm going to empty my sink, mop my floor, wipe my counters, and get some cookies onto a plate. Wanna know what "made with love" tastes like? Health code violations, just like your Grandma used to make.
There is a difference between a professional approach, and an intimate one.
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I'm stealing "made with love and health code violations, just like Grandma."
I thought it was funny
.I logged in, and saw this thread, and wondered how the hell it had gone on for 21 pages. I've had to catch up from page 5! As I was reading it, I was thinking: "Well, you will all have egg on your faces when it turns out she's been having several gyno appointments per week, and she's leaving him for her gynecologist."
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For goodness sake. Jesus wept.
I'm pretty sure that even someone who particularly liked vaginas would find that their magical vajazzling appeal wore off somewhat if they had to look at them all day long, day in, day out.
I'm pretty sure that even someone who particularly liked vaginas would find that their magical vajazzling appeal wore off somewhat if they had to look at them all day long, day in, day out.
I thought it was funny
I think I missed the humor because I was already in this conversation waaaay too long.
I was glad he clarified and I found the humor. We need more of that around here. Especially lately.
The worst thing is that the last time I got my vagina out for medical reasons the man wasn't even a gyno, he was just a GP! What does that make me!? And I'm not even single.
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No way. Their magical vajazzling appeal will never wear off! But then, I've only interacted with them for pleasure, not business.
Well, it's gotten harder to parody as more people say more things that sound like parody, but actually mean them earnestly.
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I've been holding off telling him about the trans vaginal ultrasound machine. The end of it looks like a dildo and the doctor puts a condom over it.
And they lube it up before they shove it in there.
I literally can't count the # of times I've had to have that stupid thing used on me, and it's just so uncomfortable. Every time I have a severely painful/larger than usual cyst on one of my ovaries, they have to get as close a look at everything as they can, and that little fucker is the best way to get a view of the ovaries. It puts pressure in them, and they have to roll it around to take pictures of all the different angles they can. It hurts.
The room is always so cold too. It's just one of the least comfortable things I've had to experience.
(Oh, and there's always a nurse in the room with us.)
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And they lube it up before they shove it in there.
Gently. Not so much shove I hope.
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It really happens that way. In medical school, I loved delivering babies and thought about OB as a speciality, but the Gyn part...yuck. Not in any sort of sexual way of course, but boring and ick.
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And they lube it up before they shove it in there.
If he's a dominant, he might not lube it up at all. Lolz
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It was the obstetrics, surgery and infertility treatments I was most drawn to.
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Reproductive Endocrinology is fascinating - and allowed me to have two of the most precious and valuable things in my entire life.
No they genuinely don't do any coaxing, or rub my clit for me or anything. Maybe I'll ask next time
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