Alternate Creepy

This is a Girls Only Post. On the very off-chance that any men read this blog . . . now would be a great time to work on your March Madness bracket. Or vacuum. That’s a good Man Job. Sexism, alive and well.

For those of you foolish enough to stick around, I’m writing this somewhat creepy post because I have a case at work that is beyond all bounds of creepiness, but I don’t think I can write about it yet. Man, that sounds so cool, doesn’t it? It’s so very "I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you." I’m going to write about this Alternate Creepy in the hopes that I’m distracted from the Main Creepy (the case). Because last night I slept with my lights on.

I had my first You’re a Grown-Up Girl Now doctor visit when I was 19. I didn’t know the details of what a visit like that meant when I arrived, which was most definitely for the better. I remember driving home, spitting mad because this is what being a girl means??? The doctor does that? Yearly? Dude, sometimes, being a girl is such a RIP-OFF. Turn and cough? Waaa.

Little did I know how bad it could be because then . . . I got pregnant. Holy freaking cow. There is no dignity, no dignity at all for a pregnant woman. My memories of those times are fading (memory loss due to old age isn’t all bad) but I do think that those nurses who must compel an already-hormonal woman to stand on the scale every month should be covered by OSHA for that task alone - that is some no-joke risky work-related activity. I had an epic struggle every month when I stood on the scale : is the humiliation of being publicly-naked worth those few ounces - I mean, SEVERAL TENS OF POUNDS - that my clothes weigh? The answer was an unequivocal yes. However, the nurses at my doctor are somewhat prudish; they frown on nudity in the hallway. Picky, picky.

Luckily, now I’m back on the once-a-year schedule for my Grown-Up Girl Visit, now that there are no babies in my future. The past three or four years, my visits have fallen on . . . Valentine’s Day. How’s that for the Cosmic Joke of the Day?

Getting no action this Valentine’s Day? We have your solution!! An all-expenses paid (by you or your insurance, we’re not choosy!) trip to the OB!!

Eeww.