If you are feeling a wee bit squeamish, or prude, please do not read the rest of this article, for at the gynecologists we know what must be dealt with, and I take it upon my self to deal with this very unpleasant matter in writing, to get it off the chest- off all women.
Trips to the gynecologist can not by their very nature be pleasant, for they force us to act against our very nature. We are induced to put our pants down and show our most secret parts
A to a complete stranger
B to someone we are not attracted to,
The only other people permitted, to enter our sacred shrine or yoni as they call her in tantra, are people we are
A very intimate with,
or
B extremely attracted to,
so you see the gynecologist check up, is a very odd, and alien experience, acted out voluntarily by both parties, the patient and doctor, in the name of medicine and health, yet always just so awkward.
The distress of having to go to a gynecologist appointment, begins already at home, in the shower. You sit there, water pouring down your face, in a conundrum as to what kind of hair do, should you prepare for the gynecologist. Should you leave it all untouched, and natural, like mother earth, and lift up your head a proud feminist? Ought you bare the skin, so its easier for the unattractive stranger doctor – to easily dig in? Or should you create some sort of tidy lawn, a muff version of a suit, just enough covered up, just enough cleavage, ?
What ever you decide, you will feel like an idiot .You feel the idiot for even thinking about this pre exam detail, but you go though the process, repeatedly, before each appointment.
Once at the gynecologist, how should one behave, knowing that person tapping on the computer will be poking at you with some phallic apparatus, in a few moments? My favourite coping mechanism is to enthusiastically ramble on about all sort of things which distract us from the soon inevitable.
Having climbed upon the table, and placed your legs into those holders which open you up in a way you do not feel artistically nude, but very very naked, where do you look, to avoid dealing with how exposed you really are.?
Looking into the eyes of the gynecologist, continuing some conversation, is impossible. I have tried it. At some point one of you will loose the nerve game, and the eyes will give away that this is an embarrassing situation, they will blush, look away.. So its best to be looking else where, but continuing to ramble on, using conversation to override the weirdness. Or stare at a picture.
Its also difficult to decide weather to allow yourself to produce the natural grimaces displaying your discomfort in such an instance, or keep grimaces at bay, as to not offend the doctor, trying to fake a look, like its all cool, I do this every day, botox kind of look...
Than the preference of the gynecologist sex arises. Who do you feel more comfortable with, another woman or a man looking at you? Yeah , theoretically we are not supposed to notice what sex they are, and percieve them just as a doctor, after all they all wear white uniforms and so loose their identity, a bit, but not enough, as we all do have preffrences.
I think I preffer female gynechologists as there is less stress about it all, and I have to do less talking to fake my cool. After the female old male doctors all somehow blend into one another, so they pass as the next best thing. It is the being checked over by a young, attractive doctor - that just feels, wrong.
A young attractive gynecologist happened to me recently at the hospital, and I can say it was the most embarrassing of all check ups, in my check up history. To be faced with someone who in a parallel non married universe one might walk into in a club or in the street and see fit for a date, makes you feel triple naked, and the lack of age gap, made the doctor blush bright red in agreement, aware of what he is actually doing, despite the fact its his routine.
What is worse than that, is bumping into the same gynecologist in the street. As you say hello, clearly remembering who had fisted you in the name of medicine reecentey, they reply politley recaling you from somewhere vaguely, but by the time their brain reels back the hundreds of faces they had met and succeed in placing you , now outside their practice, they became aware of where their hands had been, an suddenly embaressed blush heavily.
The saying hello to your gynecologist in the street may be a bit of a faux pass, or just inappropriate and better avoided any day. But just to get them back a little bit for the huge quantum size embaressement, we have to accept on every visit to them, perhaps we can take advantage of being our own territory, under the blue skies instead of a clinical lamp, and on seeing them out of work, among mortal men, when we are fully dressed, we should always smugly say hello, and stop long enough to give them time to connect your face- to the memories of your Yoni than walk away giggleing, at uncomfort of the gynaecologist.
Sunčica Kuzmanić (Perišin-Tomljanović)
No comments:
Post a Comment