My Cervix Is Not Making a Happy Face
Is there anything more fantastic than starting a Wednesday morning with a speculum in your crotch before the coffee has kicked in yet?
Except maybe some of the following fantastic things: sitting in a freezing exam room with my bare ass hanging out of the prepubescent-sized gown I’m wearing, having twenty minutes alone left to stare at the assorted long pokey devices that WILL be poking around in my Happy Place, or repeating the following mantra in my head: “I DO NOT HAVE A CROTCH ROT MY MOTHER WILL NOT DISOWN ME I DO NOT HAVE CROTCH ROT.”
And yet this was still sooooo much better than being at work. At least while sitting in the wet spot I was able to read Rilke
