I see London, I see France …I hate it when the doctor sees my underpants.
I go to great lengths when at the RE’s office, or any doctor for that matter, to hide my unmentionables by carefully shoving them under the rest of my clothing.
Unfortunately, I occasionally forget to hide them and do not realize until I’m perched on the exam table with every inch of offensive ass and thigh skin tucked under the paper sheet.
BAM! UNDERPANTS front-and-center for all to see.
Shit. Exactly how long it has been since the nurse left? Is there enough time to hide the underpants and still return to the table and cover all offensive ass and thigh?
What if the doctor comes in while I’m hiding the undies and catches me standing there with my bare ass hanging out for all the world to see?
I could wrap the paper sheet around myself and avoid the possibility of a full moon, but then I’d have to make back on the table without ripping the paper sheet. Why can’t they make a more durable paper sheet???
By about this time my palms are sweaty and I’m blushing 50 Shades of Embarrassed, all while my underpants are mocking me from the chair.
“It’s just too risky,” I mutter under my breath.
And then the RE walks in.
“Hi Belle, let’s see how those
giant bags of trash ovaries are doing today.”
I lay back, scootch my bum to the edge of the table and hoist my feet into the stirrups while the doctor squirts an obscene amount of lube on the ultrasound wand. I try to focus on the task at hand (relaxing so the ultrasound is quick and minimally uncomfortable) but all I can do is obsess over the terribly embarrassing underpants that are sitting directly in his line of vision.