Yep that’s right, last week I was no longer able to put off that special yearly lady appointment. I don’t see why the nurse cares about making sure I get to my lady appointment; it’s not her vagina and all I wanted was a few more months of birth control. So she had me cornered and all I could do was ask for a referral so I could go off base where I could be just another vagina in the crowd. I wouldn’t run into anyone I know in the waiting room and have to explain why I was there. To me “off base” means I have anonymity. I was granted a referral to an off base doctor and I was slightly more comfortable about the whole lady appointment. Some people are totally relaxed about the lady appointment but I am not one of those people.
Let me just preface this story with this little tid bit: two days before my appointment I hosted my first social to get to know some of the wives a little better and drinking without worrying about a ride is always a plus.
So appointment day comes. I do a little yard work while trying to maintain that delicate balance between making it look pretty without making it look like I’m trying. I dropped Lauren off at a friend’s house and headed into town. I took a seat in the waiting room and nervously thumbed through a Women’s Health magazine and vowed to start my diet “tomorrow.” I hear a nurse open the door and call my name and when I look up I’m staring at Ashley, one of the wives. I’m being cool making small talk. She has me pee in a cup and write my name on it, fine. Then she leads me back to the scale and I start to sweat a little. Before even stepping foot on the scale I start spewing excuses: I ate a big lunch, these boots are really heavy, I’m chewing gum, I’m retaining water, etc… I step on the scale and I weigh even more than I thought I did, I thought to myself I must become anorexic, dieting is simply not enough. I smiled at her as I watched her write the number down on my chart and told her she was sworn to secrecy. Then I followed her to the exam room where she went over my entire personal health survey with me, which I answered very honestly thinking only the doctor himself would see it. I was wrong. Finally she leaves and I’m thinking well she seemed nice but I obviously can never hang out with her after this. The doctor came in and we talked for a few minutes then as he was leaving he told me to disrobe. I double-checked that he meant completely naked, yep, he did. He said he needed to do a breast exam as well (of course why not, lets not leave any private part untouched right?). Then he said that he and ASHLEY would be right back in. I stood there in shocked silence. It was definitely a fight or flight moment but I couldn’t figure if it would be more embarrassing to be “that wife that freaked and ran out of the office” or as just “that wife that showed me her vagina at work.” Either way I knew I never wanted to see any of the wives EVER again. I started to get undressed but also started having a panic attack so I called my mother. Still undressing I’m trying to whisper/scream what was happening, that I couldn’t breathe and I thought I was going to be sick. She said it was going to be ok, that she looks at vaginas all day and it wouldn’t be a big deal. I hung up and put on the “robe” still dangerously close to puking. I heard a knock and in came the doctor and his lovely assistant Ashley. He started with the breast exam and I desperately tried to find my “happy place” and pretend this isn’t happening. As I am scooting my bare bottom to the end of the table I’m dying a thousand deaths and no longer able to pretend this is just a bad dream.
So, I will never go to another coffee and I certainly can’t be seen in the Commissary anymore. I am trying to start a petition that bans wives from having jobs that would require you to see another wife’s privates. It’s just not right.
