I love it when you touch me down there

Schmutzie's recent post on one of her least favorite extracurricular activities has jolted my brain into activity and given me a topic to steal, er copy. I mean write about.

Crotch doctors! Gotta love 'em. Since I've moved around so much and since I faithfully get an exam every year at least and every six months at most (HPV - I have to worry about cervical cancer), I've had my fair share of them. Males. Females. Those who do the lubed-finger-up-the-butt trick after. Those who don't. Those who take forever and a day prodding and searching. Those who are in and out faster than a beam of light. I don't like those ones who take their time. I don't. I don't. I don't. And after having ones that are in and out lickety split (I know it's possible!), I developed a spiel for every new crotch doctor I see:

"Alright. I want you to go in and come out as fast as you can. No taking a million years. I want you in. And out. Got it?" That usually gets a smile and laugh. But they never dawdle when I hit them with that.

The worst part about lying there naked, spread-eagled with a piece of cold metal shoved up my crotch is the fact that I'm lying there naked, spread-eagled with a piece of cold metal shoved up my crotch. Sure, some doctors have warmers or run the speculum under hot water before they insert it. Wow. So generous. Is it weird to give a doctor a tip? Psyche!!!

Second worst is the fact that I am lying there completely helpless and moaning and groaning about my lot in life (I'm kind enough to warn the doctor first that I will likely stage a coup or, at the very least, annoy the fuck out of him/her) and there's some person, some STRANGER, doing things to me that, frankly, I don't like. A Q-tip here, a poke there. "You're going to feel a little pinch!" My ass! Manipulate my cervix? My cervix was never meant to be manipulated! And the only reward I get for all this? One lousy finger up the ass. And that part never lasts nearly long enough for my taste.

That last sentence was a JOKE for all those who read my blog and HATE ME who would love to vilify me and say "See? She loves it up the ass and she's such a fucking pervert that she loves it when her DOCTOR gives it to her. I knew she was a degenerate freak!"

(Confession: One time, a male doctor did the finger in the ass thing, and I wasn't expecting it. It didn't feel half bad, though, and I accidentally said, "Wooooohooo!" I got a laugh out of it. The doctor didn't. Yay professionalism!)

OK. I've been to tons of gynecologists. I've had biopsies of my cervix. I've had tons of people looking and poking and prodding and feeling and pushing and searching and swabbing and blah blah blah. But only ONE doctor stands out as being really, really creepy.

Welcome to the year 2000. The place: Brooklyn. Why did I pick a doctor in Brooklyn instead of one on the Upper East Side where all the GOOD doctors are? I must have been insane. So I walk into the office and it's kinda dark with wood-paneled walls. Real old and kinda dank-feeling. I should have left but the counter lady was right there, and I didn't want to offend. So I'm the only one there, and I go in the examining room right away. (Note to self: If I'm EVER the only one in the waiting room of a doctor's office, RUN!)

So I go in the room and there's tons more wood paneling. I'm uneasy. The doc is a million years old and totters around in a state of extreme mental absence. He instructs me to strip, do the whole gown thing. At least he had the decency to leave the room while I did that. I'm surprised.

So he comes back, and I'm expecting the counter lady to come in the room, too. There's always a second person. Always! Nope. Just me and doc. Argh! Aren't there LAWS in New York????? So he starts with this weird physical that involves him slowly feeling his way over my entire body. I'm telling you. This took, like, 30 minutes at least. I think he was a leg man. Too bad I didn't shave. So then, the crotch exam. He's got me right where he wants me, and he takes forever. Then the finger thing in the vagina (yes, he was wearing gloves - I think). So he's feeling around in my vagina and then he pulls his fingers out. He turns around to go to the counter, and I see him. What? What the fuck!??? Did he just?! OH! MY! GOD! DID HE! HE DID! DID HE JUST? SMELL? HIS? FINGERS!!!? HE DID! HE JUST FUCKING SMELLED HIS GODDAMN FINGERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

My rationalizing brain tells me that's how they did it in the olden days, right? That's how they tested for a bacterial infection. He wasn't a creep, right? He was just looking for some kind of odor, right? Right?

RIGHT?!