I was in the city on Friday for two doctor's appointments. I've been lazy to find local ones, so once a year I go in to see 'the doctors'.
My boyfriend thinks that I'm obsessed with going to the doctor. No, I have a father who was/is neurotic and obsessed with going to the doctor. His thinking is, if you have the insurance, then get your money’s worth. I do have an army of doctors. General practitioner, Gynecologist, Dermatologist, Ophthalmologist, Dentist, and Physical therapist, although that one doesn't really count.
I see the following less frequently but they’re on my speed dial. Urologist, Rheumatologist, plastic surgeon, Orthopedic surgeon, Neurologist, Acupuncturist, thinning hair doctor, and podiatrist. I had a bunionectomy awhile back. Nothing says old jew like a bunion.
I parked my car and walked to the subway, only to see the R train pulling in to the station. I excitedly hopped on. You know why the train was just pulling in? Because it was the downtown train and I needed the uptown. I rode it to 34th, got off, walked over to the uptown platform and marveled at how after so many years, that I could still be getting on the wrong trains.
My yearly check up was first. The nurse called me into the room, told me to pee in a cup (if you’ve been playing at home, you know that I’ve gotten very adept at this (see why) and then that bitch weighed me fully clothed. Are you crazy? She didn't even offer to subtract any pounds for the clothes. I didn't say anything, because I'd already weighed myself that morning, completely naked (I even took my hair clip out) so I knew what the truth was.
And she didn't measure me. I've Pilates'd (sp) my brains out and I’m convinced that I've grown. She left the room so I could get into my paper towel gown (from the waist up) and I laid on the table, waiting for her return.
She came back in and started hooking me up for an EKG test. Man, she ripped that gown open, exposing my supple bosoms, and started sticking patches all over my chest. She totally rushed through it, like she had a train to catch. No sweet talk, nothing.
The rest of the exam was boring. It took all of 10 minutes. So worth the drive in.
Here's a little advice for anyone planning to visit NYC or who lives there. Please don’t walk more than two people across on the sidewalk, when there’s oncoming pedestrians. And if you can, single file that shit up. There were people walking 4 and 5 across. The friggin streets aren't big enough. Please be considerate.
I still don't know how women walk the streets in heels. I'm going to be seeing you in my Pilates classes! http://talkingismybusiness.blogspot.com/2007/09/no-sex-please.html
I have a male gynecologist, and I always wonder how they don’t get excited examining their patients (I know they’re professionals, but they’re also human) especially if a fresh and sexy 20 something, with a rack that rivals any VS model walks into the office. Hell, I'd get excited.
Is it wrong to greet my doctor with a hug? A part of me thinks it is but I don’t know if that’s the uptight part of me, who’s constantly searching for the right and wrong in situations.
I laid on the table, this time naked from the waist down, cooter slightly exposed (those paper towel gowns don’t cover squat) waiting for my doctor to get the hermetically sealed instruments out of their package. Awkward.
The exam commences, and the exam ends. Then he says that he sees a lot of Pilates Instructor's with tight pelvic floors, who have painful sex. Wait. Is he saying I have a tight pelvic floor? Is that bad? But I don’t have painful sex. AHHH! Check please!!!! Stop! I don’t want to talk about sex with you, painful or otherwise! I get it, I’m a Pilates instructor, we’re all about the pelvic floor, tight or otherwise, you’re bonding with me, but please stop talking and let me get dressed.
He finally leaves, but not before we kiss each other good-bye on the cheek, like I do with my girlfriends. I’m so confused.