And now a few words from my vagina…

Listen up, penis doodles, I’m going to talk about women stuff. Women stuff related to my private area. Click “X” on your browser if you don’t want to hear about the stuff your girlfriend already comes home and complains to you about.

I don’t particularly mind my gynecologist appointment every year like most women seem to. Sure, it’s uncomfortable and annoying (and perhaps embarrassing for some), but nothing painful like the dentist. That schmuck makes me feel as though I have a third nipple on my cheek. I think I finally came to a mature point where behind closed privacy doors that I can pretty much shock-and-awe my nurse practitioner. Plus, they love me when I’m all like “test me for everything.” (hey, I’d rather know).

I still go to Planned Parenthood/Family Planning. I have been a patient of Family Planning since I took matters into my own hands, so to speak, when I was 16 and “afraid” to tell my mom I wanted to have sex with my high school boyfriend. (Smart women, she already knew). Best of all, I like PP because I don’t have to wait four-to-six months to get in for my annuals. I just made my appointment last week when I realized my pill prescription had ended.

Plus, PP doesn’t make me feel nervous or shy talking to them about my concerns about the threesome with the hooker in Amsterdam (kidding, I just watched). But seriously, I am sure they have seen it all. Which, by the by, have you ever seen a space with “how many women have you slept with?” at your gyno’s office? See — non-judgmental, like me. In all my different insurance plans, I have tried different network doctors — once, even a man — none of whom ever gave me that “oooh, I don’t mind if you touch me there” feeling.

PP also just started a plan for my pills in which they give me twelve packs, and I give them my debit card. They trust that I will have the $17 in my account every month. Just awesome that I don’t have to remember to go to the stupid pharmacy anymore or fax in my order.

I also got the usual dairy, weight, exercise and smoking scoldings from the doc. Of which, I gleefully exclaimed I am super on dairy (but no-so-much on calcium tablets), less on weight (holy crap, ten pounds less than last year), exercising (kinda) and no more smoking (over two months, bitches!).

Females: did you know that being over 30, you have to have a separate HPV test? Yeah, just found that out today too. I have no idea what the statistics are of that — Google later. I just assumed that test was already swabbed for as part of the annual pap. Does it surprise you how much more you learn as you get older and more comfortable talking about these things?

AND they did an HIV test on the spot, which I feel is much better than waiting a week for “that call.” Does it seem as though my doctor’s office has “got” with this century (weird, I almost wrote 20th, and it’s 21st. Huh). Twenty minutes was plenty of time for a negative diagnosis.

But for shizzle, thank GOD the anti-abortionists were not picketing or stoning sinners out front as they were this past weekend. Personally, I think it’s unnecessary to show pictures of half-aborted fetuses to suburban traffic, regardless of my thoughts on personal choice and when life starts.

Blah, blah, blah. So, yes, my vagina still loves me. But it was very sad to tell the assistant that it was not currently in a sexual relationship.

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