And Now...Karaoke For The Uterus!

(you knew this was coming.)

for years we've all heard the jokes (and groans) from men detailing the horrors of "certain kinds" of medical exams they must subject themselves to ("okay, now cough"). and i don't want to suggest it isn't rough for guys, what with all your fears of swabbing and stuff.

but come now. for even the most routine of exams for women, we have to get all hoisted up on some table and situate ourselves in cold, metal torture-chamber like positions while all-too-cheery doctors prod us with cold, metal torture-device like things. and then carry on conversations with us.

it's not pleasant. we don't look forward to it. hell, we can't even say it -- we have to spell it like it's a bad word ("i have to go to the *hushed tone* o...b...g...y...").

let's face it. ObGyns are the voldemorts of doctors.

and thus, i have every empathy in the world for My Poor Friend who is having some Complicated Woman Problems. Problems so Complicated that the first TWO trips to the voldemort couldn't quite resolve them.

My Poor Friend: kristy, they are going to have to do an ultrasound.

me: oh, i'm sorry. you're not talking about the kind that goes over the tummy, are you.

MPF: nope. and this is going to suck. they have to...you know...go in.

me: i know. but at least you get to see what your uterus looks like from the inside!

i say this with mock enthusiasm. no one needs to see their uterus from the inside. on a tv screen. in front of the voldemort.

MPF: yeah. you know, that thing they use...it does kind of look like a microphone.

me: does it?

MPF: it does. do you think my uterus would sing if it could?

you see, this is what Complicated Woman Problems do to women.

me: i'm sure.

MPF: we could play some Uterus Karaoke. hmm. i wonder what my uterus would like to sing to me.

me: hard to say.

MPF: i think "you light up my life."

me: that would be nice. sweet. almost romantic.

MPF: kristy, that's gross.

apparently i do not know the rules of Uterus Karaoke.

me: sorry.

MPF: no, that's okay. maybe my uterus does have feelings for me. or did, and now it doesnt' anymore. maybe it would like to sing "you've lost that lovin' feeling." we've both seen top gun a million times. it's gotta know the words.

me: how about "one" from a chorus line? "one singular sensation, every little step she takes --"

MPF: kristy, that's gross too. and i don't think we should sing songs with the word "sensation" in them. my uterus might be a little sensitive about that.

again with the rules.

me: well, good luck with the exam. and let me know if the uterus bursts into song.

MPF: i will. but it might be a little muffled. no pun.


who says laughter isn't the best medicine? (probably the voldemort.)