It’s been a while since our last visit, hasn’t it? I understand that regular check-ups are important, and I know I should probably reach out to schedule our next appointment. But, let’s be real—I’m not exactly jumping at the chance to see you, and I’m going to explain why.
First off, I’m paying you to examine my most intimate areas. Generally, when someone gets up close and personal, there’s at least a nice dinner beforehand, maybe even some sweet talk. Yet, here I am, dressed in something that’s as much a fashion statement as a paper towel, and you’re about to see me in a way that’s anything but glamorous. My fancy clothes are neatly folded on your plastic chair, while my underwear is hidden away, as if it’s some sort of scandal to be seen.
I’ve taken the time to groom everything from my legs to, well, let’s just say the important bits—just like most women do before such an intimate encounter. Yet instead of a romantic atmosphere, I find myself waiting in your sterile office, staring at posters about birth control and the signs of infections, my nerves building as I contemplate the assortment of medical tools laid out before me.
Honestly, is this supposed to make me feel at ease? Because it’s more likely to make me feel like I need to run for the door. Maybe if you took me out for a coffee or something first, I’d feel a little less anxious.
I do appreciate your expertise; no one else has ever told me how wonderful my cervix looks (uh, thanks?). But usually, when someone is that close to me, I’m not trying to make small talk while staring at fluorescent lights. Honestly, I’d like to know a bit more about you, maybe your middle name or how many siblings you have, considering you’re about to get very personal.
So, forgive me if I’m a bit tardy for our annual catch-up. It’s hard to feel excited about our appointment when I’m just thinking about how an almost-stranger is about to examine parts of me that even toilet paper doesn’t dare to go near.
Do you even realize the effort I put into this? The hour spent in awkward positions to ensure I look presentable? Or how much feminine hygiene product I’ve used to make your office smell like a field of flowers? Or that I’m trying to hold in my nerves-fueled gas?
I’m not sure you appreciate the lengths I go to for these visits, so it’s no wonder I’m a bit hesitant about our time together. Here’s a thought: next time you could greet me at the door with a drink—something stronger than just a vaccine.
By the way, if you’re interested in more about home insemination, check out this post here. And for those looking for fertility resources, this site has some great information, as well as this excellent resource on donor insemination.
In summary, while I know our visits are necessary and even beneficial, the experience could certainly use a little more warmth and less clinical detachment.