Select-A-Size: Adult Paper Towel

            So there I was, lying naked in the examination room waiting for the doctor to have her way with my cooter. I soon realized from the pain protruding from my sciatic nerve and my mind wondering to the paranoia of whether a small camera was peering at me through the noise ventilation box in the ceiling that I had been waiting far too long.

As I sat up and laid down on the crinkling sanitation paper on the examination table trying to relieve the pain I debated whether I should storm into the hallway full commando and start screaming, “Hey, hey here I am, is this what you wanted to see, me naked for your employees!” Instead I continued to lay there putting my feet up into the stirrups that remind me of some twisted torture device from the Dark Ages. I try moving my knees in and out because my sciatic nerve is hurting something fierce and I quickly realize that if there is a mini camera peering down at me through that box my actions look like I am auditioning for Suzanne Somers Thighmaster infomercial.  I contemplate actually getting off the table to check my cellphone for the time, but I figure as soon as I grab it the door will open.

Well it seems as if ten more minutes have gone by and I start fiddling with the crappy sheet made out of paper, aka “the gown” the assistant hands you to drape your body with when you are placed in this prison cell of an examination room. I look at the tear I already made in the sheet from trying to remember which way the doctor wants this oversize paper towel placed around my body. I figure I should just toss it and say what’s the point, it doesn’t fit around my body. It doesn’t keep me warm in this cold ass room, and I have already been humiliated by the time I have sat here observing the flaws of my body and thinking some pervert is spying on me through the damn ventilation box.  So I begin analyzing each step of the process of this torture session at the O.B.G.Y.N. Still frustrated by which way to drape my body I am reminded of the fact that anyone who walks in this room the way I have situated this damn oversized paper towel gets a full view of my ass crack and my acne scars on my upper back. It is at that moment I fully realize this fucking sheet does not do anything but let me struggle for some bit of security as if I’m fucking Linus van Pelt from Charles Schulz’ comic Charlie Brown. What security is there in knowing that this doctor is going to feel my breasts for lumps, shove a cold ass metal clamp up my cooter to scrape a sample off and then put that vaginal jelly up my va-j-j with her latex covered fingers that feels like the thickest petroleum jelly you have ever felt!!!

The wait in the exam room took nearly 45 minutes, the actual exam 10 minutes (I am not bothering with how long I waited in the lobby prior to the exam).  Needless to say I changed practices after this visit.