Every once in a while it's nice to take a break from baring the depths of my soul in a blog, and prance merrily along the surface of my life instead. So, here we go!
I always have a blast at the Gynecologist! Apart from having to make an appointment months in advance for a regular checkup, I adore the forty-five minute wait, past my appointment time. I look forward to being weighed. I get exited for the pop quiz from the nurse, asking when my last period was...does it look like I do math?? It's always a pleasure being told to replace my comfortable clothing with that of...napkins. I also love to pee in cups. All of it is so great. Luckily, Dr. Lynch is a gem, so on some cray-cray level it's all worth it.
While I was waiting on the butcher papered table, in my crunchy paper ball gown, I found myself studying THREE 11x17 cork boards on the wall, displaying one hundred and four wallet size pictures of babies. I can only describe it as a physical Facebook feed that I wanted to run from, but couldn't because my wardrobe wasn't public-ready...although it WAS pubic-ready! *throws hands up off the keyboard and shouts "GENIUS!"*
Needless to say I'm bored, I'm cold and deeply longing for a husband or some kind of partner to be here with me for an ultrasound of our unborn alien-looking baby. (Whoops, I said I wasn't gonna go deep. Moving on...) It has now been thirty minutes and my napkin toga is wilting. I assume it will be hours before I see Dr. Lynch, --er, before Dr. Lynch sees me. So, I do what ANY self-respecting Gen Y gal does; I took some selfies.
See the Facebook feed on the wall?
I don't understand why I'm single.
Dr. Lynch finally made her appearance. After twelve of those awkward reminders to scoot down, open wider, scoot down, open wider, she gave me a clean bill of health. But I believe the real health comes from my desire to make every awkward situation an awesome one. Despite popular speculation, selfies do make everything better. Also, I need to get out more.