Recently, I found myself facing my annual visit for a Pap smear. After dodging the appointment for too long, I finally took the plunge and booked it. On the big day, I went above and beyond in my personal grooming—more than I ever did back when I was dating. Still, I was quite sure my hard work would go unnoticed by a doctor who spends his days examining lady parts. But honestly, the thought of him encountering the wild jungle down there without some effort on my part was utterly terrifying.
I arrived feeling somewhat confident, knowing that I had put in the effort to tidy up my lady garden. I also reminded myself that I make my partner buy me drinks before he gets to inspect the area south of the border. I greeted the receptionist with a smile, trying to focus on the TV playing in the background, instead of freaking out about my unshaven legs.
As I followed the nurse to the exam room, my mind was racing with thoughts. From the awkwardness of stepping on the scale to the questions about my alcohol consumption, it was clear that this visit would be anything but comfortable. Stripped down to just a flimsy drape from a discount store, with instruments I’m pretty sure no man would ever endure, my gynecologist appointments are perpetually cringe-worthy.
And I can’t be the only one who thinks the following during these visits:
- They should really serve mimosas in this place.
- Oh no, I just went to the bathroom. No urine sample for me!
- That weight cannot be right! Subtract 10 pounds—I’m wearing boots! And jeans! And this heavy scarf! Actually, let’s make that 15, Nurse-You-Made-Me-Fluffy.
- When she asks about alcohol, does she mean glasses or bottles?
- I saw that eyebrow raise, Nurse-You-Made-Me-Fluffy. We both know I’m not telling the truth about my wine intake.
- Recreational drugs? Oh, if only!
- A countdown clock would be great to know how long until the doctor arrives and I’m completely exposed.
- Dang it, I forgot to shave my legs.
- Why aren’t there any posters of Chris Hemsworth or Justin Timberlake around? Those anatomical diagrams remind me that my abs are long gone.
- Ah-choo! Great, now the exam table is damp. How awkward.
- Seriously, why is it so cold? My nipples could cut glass!
- Oh look, the doctor is here, and he’s shaking my hand. How many vaginas has he seen today?
- Yup, that’s my bra and my granny panties just lying there. Awesome.
- Sexually active? More like actively trying to avoid it, Doc.
- At least he won’t judge me for my flossing habits.
- What birth control method am I using? Um, my four kids?
- Sure, I do breast self-exams every day, just as often as I floss, Bucko.
- Questions? Nope, I’d rather ask my best friend than talk about how dry my hoo-ha feels.
- Wow, my breasts are huge. And saggy. Why am I just now noticing hair around my nipples?
- Why isn’t the nurse saying anything? Can’t she help me escape this nightmare? Speak up, Nurse-You-Made-Me-Fluffy!
- I should’ve kept my socks on.
- No, I can’t scoot down any further. Any closer and you might as well ask for cookies too, Doc.
- We’ve landed on the moon and even nominated a woman for president, yet they still can’t warm the lube gel? Ridiculous!
- Is now a good time to mention I could provide that urine sample?
- Oh, how charming, he’s telling me about his family trip to Disney while he’s examining me.
- I really need a pedicure.
- Don’t fart, don’t fart, don’t fart…
- A little pressure? Seriously? Why not just shove a watermelon up there?
- If he says, “Houston, we have a problem,” I’m going to kick him!
- Why aren’t there any pictures of Chris Hemsworth or Justin Timberlake on the ceiling?
- Don’t sneeze, don’t sneeze…
- Seriously, I have to pee.
- Oh, everything looks good? What a relief! I’m proud of my cervix!
- Yes, looking forward to next year too. The pleasure of having my insides inspected by a man who isn’t my husband was all mine.
- Where did my underwear go? It was right there.
- Do I just toss the drape aside or leave it on the tiny bed?
- Ah-choo! Well, there goes that urine sample.
Going to the gynecologist is humiliating, but it would be even worse if the doctor could read my mind. But then again, even if he could, my thoughts would be clearer than when I’m at the dentist.
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Summary
Visiting the gynecologist can be a cringe-worthy experience filled with a whirlwind of thoughts ranging from self-consciousness to outright panic. Despite the awkwardness, the experience is universal for many women, filled with relatable musings about modesty, body image, and the peculiarities of medical visits.