d.o.r.k

This morning I had an appointment with my OB/GYN; I got to get my cervix scraped! Wwwhhhheeeee!!!

But my regular doctor (a woman) was in a delivery. I waited almost 2 hours for her to arrive (which is SO par for the course at this particular office but I won't get into that now, oh no I won't) when the nurse poked her head in the door and, cowering behind her clip-board to protect herself from flying objects, asked if I'd mind if the male doctor came in and performed my colposcopy. I said I didn't mind if it would allow me to put my damn pants back on sometime before noon.

So as I sat waiting for the doctor, naked from the waist down but for the paper-towel draped across my lap, my eyes wandered down my legs and HOLY SHIT I CAN'T EVEN REMEMBER THE LAST TIME I SHAVED MY LEGS. Actually, that's not true. I remember that I shaved them the day before my wedding. So...September 12th. And now, three weeks later, I have more in common with Sasquatch than Mr. Clean.

And I wouldn't have given it a second thought if my regular FEMALE doctor was going to see me, but a male doctor? Oh god, I couldn't let him think I was..was...slovenly and didn't know that small woodland animals had taken up residence. So me being me, well, when the good doctor came in and gave the orders to "stirrup-up", I blurted out something along the lines of "If you feel something brushing your ears while you're down there, don't be alarmed! It's just the hair on my legs ha ha ha!"

Yeah. Better to POINT IT OUT, right? This poor, kind, grandfatherly man actually blushed.

Jesus.

WHY? Why could I not just lay back and be cool (and quiet)? I guess because I am so. not. cool.

sigh.