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Get it Pappin aka It’s A Slow Blogging Day

This morning I hit an all time record of snooze buttons before actually getting out of bed – 6 to be exact. I finally woke up to KRON news’ Evelyn Taft saying it would hit the 70s inland. The sun was shining through my bathroom window, and Bob Marley was playing full blast on my laptop while I showered. It was so nice outside that I was able to break out my strappy sandals which haven’t seen the light of day since last May. If I was still in college, it would’ve been one of those mornings where I didn’t go to class and laid out in the grass or went to the beach instead. But forget all of that. ‘Cuz nothing says “Good first monday morning after daylight savings time” better than a 9am gyno appt with a male doctor. FML.


So as I’m sitting there butt-booty nekkid underneath my ever so fashionable hospital blue couture waiting for the Dr. (can I just say this is the first time a man has ever made me wait naked?), I couldn’t help but think back to my very first papsmear. I had come in with my bf at the time for moral support and we were both absolutely mortified. I was still in h.s. and even he had barely been in my va-jay-jay so I was not happy at all that some hippie doctor with hemp earrings on was going to be in there as well.

I vividly remember the first words she said to me: “Sweety, what he puts in there is a lot bigger than what I’m about to put in. And if it isn’t, well then we have a problem.” And just like that, my apprehension subsided. Almost 10 years later, I’ve gotten quite used to a complete stranger being all up in my bizsnatch considering I get waxed routinely, but one thing I will never get used to is enemy #1: The Speculum.


I’ll say it again. “The Speculum.” Dun.Dun.Dunnn. I dunno about u, but it totally sounds and looks as uncomfortable as it feels. Maybe I just have a small vagina opening or maybe I’m just a wuss when it comes to people sticking foreign objects in my nether regions (can u blame me though?) but either way, I am not a fan. I don’t like that kind of screwing around down there. It’s cold. It’s uncomfortable. A little diabolical. And everytime the Dr. adjusts that screw on the bottom and I can HEAR it, it’s worse than hearing them drill ur teeth at the dentist. U would think that they’d redesign this thing by now. ‘Cuz it looks like some sort of medieval torture device. Perhaps some soft rubber to cushion the duck bill looking part? Or maybe manufacture them in a floral print or pastel color to at least give u the impression that it’s ur friend.?!

But then I thought maybe it’s not meant to be ur friend. Maybe for those who are visiting the gyno for reasons other than ur routine pap (i.e. UR A FUCKING SLUT), it’s meant to scare u and be a constant reminder that until u stop being a whore or stop being allergic to condoms – that The Diabolical Duck (which is what I will be calling it from now on) will be waiting *insert evil laugh here*

As for myself? My aunt recently found a cancerous lump in her breast and will be having surgery for it this week. Because I’m a pranoid freakazoid I asked the doc to check that out as well and survey says: I’m lump free! And I will definitely be crossing my fingers that my aunt will be lump free soon too.

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