“How the hell was I supposed to know any of this? And I thought that was just a nickname for them and they shortened it to fit on the packaging. I was using the formal name,” Jenny tells her as she continues to move her hips around in a giant circle like she's trying to hula hoop in slow motion.
We all just stand around staring at her while she does her weird mating ritual to get Benjamin’s balls loose. It's like a train wreck we can’t turn away from.
“I am never letting anyone use the bathroom in my shop. Ever,” Liz says under her breath.
“Ooooh, I think I got one loose!” Jenny exclaims.
“I totally love you right now!” Drew tells her.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Claire states, throwing her hand over her mouth and running for the exit.
19. Oops, I Did it Again!
After a week of being sick off and on, Carter forces me to go to the doctor. Other than throwing up a few times, I feel fine. I know he's making a big fuss over nothing. But regardless, I haven’t been to my doctor for anything other than my yearly pap test since Gavin was born. He's a general practitioner so he is Gavin’s doctor as well. With all the time I've spent in that office with my son and his check-ups, colds, shots, fevers, diaper rashes, and everything else under the sun, there is no need for me to go in there if it isn’t absolutely necessary. I’m the type of person who doesn’t go to the doctor unless I’m bleeding from the eyes or monkeys are flying out of my ass. I figure my heath and well being will be perfectly fine through osmosis just by walking into that place every couple of months with my son.
When I call my doctor and tell him my boyfriend is being mean and making me get a physical, his exact words are, “Claire, you know there’s more to you than your vagina. I’ve scheduled you for tomorrow.”
Whatever. What if my vagina is the best part? What do you have to say about that, Doctor Dick?
Actually, I really do love our doctor. I have never seen him wearing anything other than jeans and a t-shirt. He’s very down-to-earth and Gavin loves him. Plus, if I’m going to let a guy stick his hands up my snatch once a year, he better make me feel comfortable if he isn’t buying me dinner first.
I'm currently sitting on the exam table in a lovely ensemble of a paper shirt that opens in the front and a paper blanket the size of a newspaper that is supposed to fit around my ass. The room is a balmy fifty-two degrees, and I have been waiting forty-five minutes so far. Needless to say, I'm in a super mood by the time Dr. Williams finally shows up.
“Claire, how are you doing today?” he asks as he walks into the room with a nurse following close behind.
“Oh, I’m just super. Did you do something new with these gowns? They seem to have much more coverage,” I say sarcastically.
“Ah, Claire, you always say the nicest things,” he laughs as he takes a seat on his little stool with wheels and looks over my chart.
The nurse comes up next to me and takes my blood pressure and checks my pulse, reporting the numbers to Dr. Williams so he can notate them.
“Well, your BP is good and you don’t have a fever. When was your last menstrual cycle?”
I count backward through the weeks in my head and then stop and count again.
“Well, it was…I remember it was a Tuesday because that’s the day my supplies are delivered, and I was in the middle of signing for the white chocolate when I felt cramps,” I ramble, trying not to panic.
One, two, three, four, carry the seven, multiply by eight…FUCK!
I glance over at the calendar hanging on the wall. This month shows a black and white cat with wide eyes and both of its paws covering its mouth as if to say 'Oops!'.
Fuck you, you stupid cat! I can’t count with you staring at me like that. And if cats really could say “Oops” they’d do it when they shit on the SIDE of the litter box instead of in it.
I stare at the squares and the numbers on the calendar until they all start to blur together, either from eye strain or tears, I'm not sure which.
“First, how about we just have you scoot down to the end of the table and we’ll check you out. You’re due for your yearly exam next month anyway so we might as well get that taken care of,” Dr. Williams says as he slides his chair closer to me while the nurse pulls out the extension at the end of the table and adjusts the stirrups for my feet.
I lie back and put my legs up in the air while the nurse slides a table over with the pap test kit already set up on top.
Right now, I wouldn’t mind a little Drew humor to take my mind off of things. Something to the effect of, “How’s that cunt scrape coming along?”
I squeeze my eyes shut while the doctor goes to work, sticking his hands where only one man has gone before.
“So, have you been watching the new Bachelorette? That chick is a train wreck!” Dr. Williams says with a laugh.
“Um…”
“Did you see when she got all trailer park on that one guy? Wagging her finger and shaking her head? You can take the girl out of the trailer park…” Dr. Williams trails off with another laugh as I hear the metal clink of the speculum.
“My daughter likes to watch that stupid show just to see the pretty dresses she’s going to wear,” he tells me as he continues working between my legs.
No really, it’s perfectly fine to talk about reality television and YOUR KID while your fingers are all up in my business. How does this work when he’s at home? Is it the exact opposite when he’s sitting around the dinner table? “So did I tell you about this woman today? Her cooch hadn’t been shaved in days. What a trainwreck! Can you pass the potatoes? I only treat her because she’s got a pretty uterus. How did you do on your spelling test, Cindy Lou?