New Year, New Annuals

*Warning, if you are a male, or don’t have a sense of humor, this post may not be a post that you should read. It references my lady bits. No…no pictures are shown of me, but there’s a pretty disturbing photo of a Yeti Q-Tip. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.*

Yeah, I’m talking about annual doctor’s appointments today. The necessary evil in the lives of women everywhere.

There’s something slightly humbling about being asked to remove all clothing so that the most private area of your body can be examined. And it’s even more awkward when you actually love your doctor. Not love in a romantic way, but LOVE their demeanor, bedside manner, etc. Until she has to feel all over my lady parts (as deflated as they may be) and then look into my inner soul from the birthing canal.

Let’s also not talk about the Yeti sized Q-Tip that they use to “collect samples”

*blank face*

We also won’t talk about the duck billed torture device that makes you more open so that  your insides can be invaded.

Or the way they tell you to “scootch to the end of the table”

I’ve given birth three times. Two naturally, and once by c-section. I STILL don’t feel as invaded giving birth as I do with an annual exam.

I can’t be the only one either.

Please tell me, I’m not the only one.