This Dirty Girl Is All Clean

In the ranking of Things I Enjoy Doing In Life, going to the lady-doctor comes in just above listening to nails on the world's longest chalkboard. It's not that I mind spreading my legs for the doctor--it's the whole atmosphere. It's cold in the office, so I have to keep my socks on. I'm wearing one of those heinous hospital gowns, which does me no favors. Sure, the doctor grabs my boobs (to check for cancer) before diving between my legs, but she's got all the finesse of a 15-year-old boy on prom night. Shouldn't she at least buy me a drink first?

Especially when she's running the battery of tests on me. There were a couple of nights when I forgot or neglected to forage for a condom, so I figured it was high time for me to get tested for all the various bugs one can get when getting busy. My gynecologist ran down an entire medical guide of tests she'd order for me. I rolled up my sleeve, gave the ornery technician several vials of my blood, and went on my way.

I wasn't really worried I actually had anything, but it was a great relief when I came home last week and saw a letter from my doctor in the mailbox. No STDs found in my blood or on my cervix. And my cholesterol levels are excellent.

The best part of all this, aside from not having a venereal disease? I can now wave these papers in front of the next guy I'm with. "Here's proof I'm clean, pal. If anything comes up the next time I get one of these, I'll know I have you to thank for it."