October 05, 2011

I am woman hear me not talk

I have seen this ad on the highway several times but couldn’t snap a pic of it for fear of losing my life driving 80 mph, taking pictures of a gynecological billboard.

But I finally pulled up behind one of their ads at a stop sign! It might be kind of hard to make it out in that photo, but that’s 4 woman, dressed in bright purple, embracing each other. The catchphrase above reads: “Women Caring For Women”. Ahh, I see what you did there. You’re going to be my friend and the doctor of my womanhood. How fun.

Here’s my problem with that. Going to the gynecologist, in my opinion, literally couldn’t get any worse. That is, unless you add a bunch of Girl Power and hugs from strangers to the mix. My ideal trip to the OB/GYN, well, wouldn’t exist. But if it had to, I’d be wearing a bag over my head in it. And for that matter, so would the doctor.

Whatever happened to good old fashioned anonymity and impersonal patient-care? The doctor I went to in high school was 2 things I think a doctor should never be: 1) The mother of a kid my age in my church’s youth group, 2) excited about women’s private parts.

What that essentially boils down to is the doctor asking about the well being of my parents and my sister while she’s face first in my baby maker telling me how wonderful things are. No, no, no, and ohmigod hell no.

I would like to keep those 2 things disassociated for the rest of my life THANK YOU VERY MUCH!

Maybe I’m the exception to the rule, because some women might like their doctors, their naked bodies, and general exhibitionism. But I am not one of those women. I am sure the women at this OB/GYN doctor’s office are great and give awesome hugs, but I’ll be going to a doctor at over-crowded hospital center where I’ll probably wait for an hour, but can do so knowing that I will never, ever see that doctor out in public or at the neighborhood Christmas party.

Also, those scrubs make me dizzy.

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