Today, I went to the gynecologist. Guys and/or squeamish folks, this is your last chance to bail out. (Dad, that means you!) I am not squeamish or shy, so things are about to get (somewhat) graphic.
Still here? Good.
So I was in the room with the nurse and she tells me to take everything off, put on this paper gown, with the opening in the back (because it provides more coverage that way) and then she gives me a paper sheet to further cover myself. And then she excused herself and closed the door.
I barely stifled a laugh, because why? What is with all the covering? Is this man not going to examine my breasts, make me spread my legs are far as they will go and literally put things inside me? Do I really need the pretense of privacy?
Then he knocks before entering. I suppose to make sure I am properly covered before he squishes my boobs and probes me with a giant Q-tip. Then when I assure him I am ready, he comes in, shuts the door and closes a curtain? Then I had to laugh.
I wonder if other people find it funny or if childbirth and nursing sucked out the last of my modesty. In fact, at my last visit, I absentmindedly started stripping right in front of the nurse and she looked mildly horrified. I think at this point I would be comfortable stripping in the lobby, so it goes without saying that the gown and sheet pretense are unnecessary.