Oh, the delights of being a woman. Had my ultrasound scan today to check that all my...er...female bits are functioning properly. Nobody thought to tell me it was gonna be an internal examination. I was expecting the normal pregnancy kind of scan, where you hike up your shirt, shriek as a tube of ice-cold gel gets splurged on your belly and relax while the nurse runs this mouse-like thing over your stomach.
Well, you know what thought does? Yep, gets you in the arse very time.
I was greeted by an elderly nurse snapping on industrial strength Marigolds all the way up to her elbows. By the time I'd dropped my drawers and plunged underneath the 'modesty' blanket, she was armed with a three-foot-long probe-thingy ornately decorated with a condom.
Gulp.
"Um...I'm allergic to condoms," I squeaked.
"Do you wear rubber gloves?" she barked.
"We-ll, not usually for sex, but sometimes for washing the dishes."
"Then you'll be fine! Now, brace yourself, dearie; I'm going in..."
I won't go into all the grisly details, but let's just say a pulsating cavity-probe rummaging around in my more intimate areas certainly brought back vague memories. I seem to remember something similar happening in a former life.
If only I could remember the details...
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2 comments:
Oh-er. You must put that in your novel!
I have to go for routine poke around soon - it's so great being a woman!
What, and admit to the world that I've forgotten what sex is like?? never! XX
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