I shaved, therefore I am....

...going to the gynecologist.

Not that there aren't other reasons to shave, but it's like cleaning the apartment. If you're having company, you clean. But you might clean a little extra if it's company you don't know so well. And so it is with my leg hair.

I am very much detesting going tomorrow. First off, I am very premenstrual. Having a pelvic when already premenstrual means, often, owwie. Second, the gynecologist's office is far away. So far away that it is in the town where my ex now lives. That's number three. Having to go to that town, which I have claim to because my gynecologist was there well before Tom got his apartment there. Unfortunately, I was there much more recently and frequently for Tom so the route will prime ex-memories. Fourth, my gynecologist is always late. It doesn't matter what time of day my appointment is at or when I arrive relative to my appointment. I can pretty much guarantee that I will have to wait in the mommie and baby stuff filled outer waiting room, in the exam room, and then in the "in back" waiting room. And finally, I have gynecological problems, meaning I don't get the quick "in and out" exam. I get "the full monty".

Two hours later, after I've used three washcloths trying to clean up the lube-slick and then sat in the inner waiting room for at least a half hour, my gynecologist and I can talk about my "options" for treating the endometriosis, such as going on hormone therapty that will turn me into an irrate man. Actually, it's just the one option but with different names - Lupron, Aygestin, medroxyprogesterone acetate. It comes up yearly, at the exam. "Are you sure you don't want to take (insert drug name here) and become an angry man?" they ask. And every appointment since my miserable year on various of these drugs, I want to scream "Are you fucking kidding?!!" Instead, I just politely say "Yeah, I'm pretty sure I don't want that." During our dicussion, which we can think of as the after party, I can get the update on my polyp. This is the one we decided not to remove a few years ago because I was given the option not to and the doctor didn't push. I think if it has gotten bigger I should name it. Penelope? Petula? Pandora?

Currently, I am trying to think of ways to make tomorrow less unpleasant. It seems my best bet is to schedule a reward for after the appointment. I'd say shopping but I might be crampy and will certainly be squishy, not how I want to cruise the mall. Perhaps a certain young man can be persuaded to provide me with a lengthy massage with the Lush massage bar of my choice tomorrow evening....