"That's what she said"...and other one-liners from the gynecologists office

Note- If you are a guy, you probably wanna stop reading now.

So I finally sucked it up and went to the Gynecologist today. I think I was under 30 when I went the last time. (if that tells you anything.) I was referred to this chic in South County who was supposedly funny and "hip" so I figured...what the heck. If any woman's gonna be feeling me up, she may as well be witty.

Now see, ladies, this is my issue...It's so strange going to the ob/gyn. They ask you all these questions and sometimes, ask you again, just to make sure you're not leaving out anything juicy. As if I'm gonna say, "Oh wait. I forgot to mention my intravenous drug usage. And well, I've only had sex a FEW times for money."
They really want to know about your sex life. or lack thereof. Sometimes, I feel like I should tell them a fun anecdote or something, just because I don't get to tell them about sex partners.

Abstinent. Done. Move on.

Put me on the scale. Joy. They tell me I've shrunk an inch. I'm now down to 5"4. Shit.

All of this happens even before I get naked. The doctor comes in, just when I am getting reeaaally comfortable in that stirrup chair. They should sell those at IKEA. I'm telling her random stuff about me. "I just moved here. blah blah. blah. My car got stolen. blah. Those Anne Geddes photos are nice. blah. blah. blah." I am postponing the inevitable here.
But to my surprise, ALAS! A funny doctor! She jokes back. She cusses. She has a nose ring. I start to develop a girl crush on her.

Then. She tells me to get naked. I ask her if she could at least buy me a drink first.

So, of course, girls, you know how it goes. She comes back in and jumps right to it. I happen to look over and notice the contraption on the counter. I'm thinking aloud..."That's not gonna fit." She replies, face between my legs, "You don't trust me?" I say "I've heard THAT before." I feel like I should be in the back seat of a car. in 1992.

I'm always so nervous about what the Dr. is thinking. So I make some comment about not worrying about the curb appeal when I have no house guests. She busts out laughing. (Note to self- Maybe I shouldn't make someone double over as they are shoving a metal rod into my vagina.) Speaking of, why is that metal thing always so. damn. cold??

Oh, the misery. At least, she gets done quickly and heads north for the breast exam. This is what is so weird. It's clinical. But just...in a way...personal. As I always break awkwardness with humor, I start to tell her this is the most action I ever get, and about the same time, she busts out with "So you need to get your ass outta the ghetto!" I didn't know if she was referring to my earlier "curb appeal" comment or what. I must have looked confused and then- I get it. We both die laughing. She's talking about my recent run of theft. She says she has a switch blade in her purse. I like her more.

Come to find out, it wasn't so bad. When your gyny has her face in your loveliness, at least I found one who quotes "that's what she said." I almost want to send her flowers tomorrow.