My Gynecologist is a Man

I long subscribed to the theory that seeing a male gynecologist would be like going to an auto mechanic who's never owned a car, but here I am.

DH announced last week that his office was closed today, the first business day of 2011. I told him I already had a lunch date--with my gyne.

Well, it's not a lunch date, it's my annual exam. It's actually my 16-month exam; I held off so as to start chipping away at our insurance deductible from day one. Though come to think of it, this wellness visit might be fully covered.

At any rate, during my first visit to "Dr. Man" he met with me, fully clothed. I mean I was fully clothed. I mean we met in his office for a "get to know the new patient" chat, both dressed to the nines.

We talked, we laughed and then I was directed to the exam room where I disrobed and he stuck things inside me. Honestly, I've had dates worse than that.

Speaking of TMI, did you see my recent post, "The baboon who loved me"? Nah, I didn't think you did. It went live on December 28.

Stop in tomorrow for the 2011 season premiere of Property Sluts!
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