I had stuff to write about today, but I got caught up in a fun book (another to add to the list of ones to write about), and I've been tinkering with the Whore's Boudoir. If you're familiar with the old layout, check out the new one and tell me what you think. Show some love for the new one, and if you'd like to know what's going on for it, there's always the (temporary) news page.

The fish in the bottom tank are apparently in ecstacy; there are all kinds of bubbles present. :)

For now, I will get (not enough) sleep before I go see my doc in the morning. As I've been saying to Mark, gotta get the baby checked out. ;)

Relax, I'm not preggers. It's just kinda funny to joke about; people always assume something's drastically wrong (especially guys) when you say you have an appointment with your doc. A lot of guys don't go in for regular physical exams, whereas many of the women I know do. I do the once-a-year thing 'cause at the very least if I didn't, my doc wouldn't renew my prescription. That and I just can't bear to go another 365 days without the friendly speculum. What a fucking awful process... I want to say demeaning, but I'm not entirely sure if it is or not. I'll talk about it in great detail tomorrow after my memory is refreshed in order to imagine the menfolk who read this site cringing and crossing their legs in sympathy.

Many of 'em just don't quite understand what's involved with a lovely PAP smear and speculatory experience... and I'm more than happy to share. Why should I keep the horror to myself?

Before I crash for the night, here's a fun experience for you to imagine: picture a 16-year old girl, about to get her first PAP smear and "down there" exam done by a GP who isn't her regular one (long story). Older man, somewhat brusque and brisk in his procedures, barely speaks to the girl the entire time he's examining her (the routine 'before' stuff). Time for the embarrassing stuff; legs up in the stirrups, wide apart, braced in a truly awkward manner...

Wait, let me explain that one a bit better. Sure, flat on your back, about to have sex (or actually having it), your legs are spread apart. However, you usually have something against which to brace 'em or wrap 'em, right? You can angle them however you want (within reason) so that you're comfortable, or you can even wrap 'em around your sweetie's neck. Guys lying on their backs have it quite easy, even if they do have their legs in odd positions.

There is simply no way for me to adequately describe how much fun it is to try to spread my legs that wide with nothing to properly brace them against in order that a doctor might get up close and personal. Now, my GP has a wall against which I can brace one knee, but that poor right knee of mine is flailing off in space, and it's not exactly a happy camper. And before I forget -- you never have your butt quite hanging off the edge enough, nor do you have your legs wide enough apart. Do you have any idea how much fun it is to try to scoot your paper gown-covered body down a paper-covered examining table so that your ass might dangle off the edge of a table? With your legs braced in stirrups and no real way to hang on?

I mean sure, I've had sex on the kitchen table like any regular person, but that's a bit different. There you have someone holding onto your legs or something so you at least have some support... although maybe there stirrups would come in handy, too. Hmm...

But back to my first story. This exam table was not up against a wall, so I had two knees flailing around, and no experience with this kind of thing either. I'm lying there, uncertain of what to expect, when the doctor finally deigns to speak (still brusquely, I'd like to point out!):
"You know about the ring of muscle?"
"Uh... yeah..."
"Don't tighten it, otherwise this will be very uncomfortable."

And with those soothing, encouraging words, I got a "who's your daddy?!" from a person who was, up until that point, a stranger to me.

I'd like to further point out that that was my first and only pelvic exam (the technical term for having a complete stranger with a medical degree finger you... okay, insert his medical finger into you). My GP doesn't do it; this may be a failing on his part, or it may be that he doesn't feel the need. Either way, I'm rather glad he doesn't. The speculum is bad enough.

And as I said, you'll be sure to get the complete rundown of that one tomorrow, although I suppose this has been a pretty thorough rendition as it were.

Cramps, speculums, strange fingers in our tender parts, and the ability to squeeze a 9-lb screaming watermelon out of a lemon-sized hole. Isn't being female grand?

Mind you, there are the boobs.