It was that time. My annual check-up/pap smear was scheduled for today, and I went forth realizing my new practitioner would get to know me intimately. It’s hard to start over with a new person, especially when that first meeting requires me to spread my legs. Wide. Then there is the boob exam and other nuances my shy nature cringes at. Usually a person has to sign something in blood before I will reveal my weight, but in this case I took off my shoes and dealt with it. It was too bad I wore my ten- pound panties today… at least that is the only reason I can think of that my weight was what it was. To my delight the mid-wife/practitioner was great. She even warmed the speculum to a friendly temperature and salvaged my dignity. (It’s so embarrassing when the shrieks can be heard throughout the clinic. Icy speculum users you know who you are.) As we were parting ways she told me I was doing everything right—exercise, vitamin supplements, lots of vegetables, and carrying a great attitude. I liked her. She said our culture is foolish for thinking all women should be young and a size 2. I liked her even more. She didn’t even mention the ten pound, um, panties in my life. She was the best part of my day!
