Annual Things

"... the doctor mentioned that I might have to go for a second surgery because..."

(pause)

I believe the doc recognized the onset of uncontrollable fits of giggles if she did not immediately stop what she was doing -- so she did. I managed to act my age and not burst out laughing.

God, it never gets any easier. Perhaps when my boobs shrinks down to flaps of skin is when I will no longer find it funny when someone pinches and squeezes my nipples.

Annual physicals, don't we all love them?

They make you put on a gown, usually made out of paper, with armpit cutouts big enough to fit a thigh through, why bother being modest? But I still fumbled with the little string, trying to tie up the make shift robe when my breasts are still visible from the sides. Hey it kept me warm.

It wasn't long until the next embarrassing moment. As part of the examination, skin is being evaluated. First for me.

"Okay, take off the gown. I need to check your skin so I need to see all of you."

Already... ... so I tried to act as if disrobing in front of strangers is norm for me. I had to do a little twirl too! Maybe next time I'll imagine myself posing for art students instead. Perhaps that'll help. I don't know many people who are completely at ease with baring it all.

"You are in perfect health. See you next year!" With those parting words marked the end of my annual exam for 2006.

You know the drill..
- get into the doc's office
- wait for name to be called
- rummage through the stacks of magazines
- read an article
- whohoooo!! you are called
- get into a smaller room
- wait for nurse
- rummage through the smaller stack of magazines
- wish you brought your own reading material
- read several more articles
- whoohooo!! nurse comes in
- you are informed the doc will be in soon, get naked and into the gown
- back to rummaging through magazines
- again, really wishing you brought other stuff to read
- finally found a good article to read
- half way through the article the doc shows up
- usually 10 minutes later you are out of there with $35 dollar less in the pocket


I'll live for another year.


Halloween, another annual thing.

It's been a long while since I dished out teeth rotting sweets to young children. The act of giving does release some endorphins. I was giddy with joy when I see the kids walk up to the door. Rushing down, I got there even before little monsters had the chance to ring the bell. Quickly, the candy in the bowl diminished. By 7pm, I was out of goodies. Feeling bad, I ran out to CVS to lug back enough candy to induce root canals. But my efforts went unappreciated. Only 4 more kiddies came by the house.

So here I am, with a bag of candy ready for next year's Halloween.