welcoming the new year...at the gyno's office

Yep, you read it right...I had my yearly appointment at the gynecologist's office on New Year's Eve. When I called to make my appointment, this was the only time I could get. My first thought was "isn't this a holiday?", thinking for sure this would buy me more time. Well, I guess when you are in the baby-delivering business, holiday "eves" aren't exactly holidays.
So I go to my appointment that morning and I already feel funny being there. In the waiting room I felt like all the pregnant ladies (and their husbands) are checking me out and thinking, "you know she's not here just for check-up, not on a holiday, she must be here because she got the funk or something". Anyhow, it doesn't take long before the dreaded moment comes...the scales. I always joke when it is check-up time: "Put me in the stir-ups, just don't put me on the scales". When I get officially weighed in each year, I always picture the "Amy's weight" line graph that must be in my chart. All the peaks and valleys (this was a peak year I must admit). Next, it's into Dr. Henderson's office for some pre-exam pleasantries. We chat for a moment and try to wrap up what my past year has involved in a few minutes of chit-chat. For the most part, I'm pretty boring, so a few minutes is ample time for me. From there I'm instructed into the exam room to "get the oil checked and tires rotated" as Dr. Henderson likes to say. The discomfort begins when he tells you to get undressed and how to wear the cape-thing they give you. I always tell John how strange it is to know that getting undressed means getting COMPLETELY undressed. Each year I debate on whether or not to take off my socks. I mean, you don't need to but somehow sitting there on the table completely naked except my black socks just seems so weird. I left them on because I have this fear that gyno's have on-going jokes between each other as to whether women they see are "sock taker-offers or not". So I get on the table and wrap the sheet around me so no one can see my butt crack out the back. Dr. Henderson gets me involved in a conversation about John's greenhouses and the drought while he examines my boobs. I can't remember what the conversation was as the exam proceeded. Then, it's over for another year and I'm behind the curtain getting dressed. As he waits back in his office for me, I rush to get all my layers back on. Behind the curtain (as some of you may know) they have a basket of tampons, sanitary napkins, and personal wipes. Like offering candy in a candy dish, I guess this basket is here just in case you need one of the items...well, as I'm rushing to get my arms back in my sweater to get out of this place, I knock off the basket. Tampons fly into the air like confetti. Then I'm on the floor, half dressed trying to quickly and neatly repack this basket. Hurrying so Dr. Henderson doesn't wonder what is taking me so long. (Picture this for a moment). So now I'm pack up, dressed, and back to his office for a few more pleasantries. All is good and I'm anticipating getting out of there when I get served my papers.... Mammogram papers. Evidently, my 40th birthday in June will be the start of another exciting procedure in my health care. Wonderful, now I have to find a holiday in June to have my boobies smashed...