Today is my annual gynecology check up.

What revelations will confront me today? I’m getting older? Gravity has impacted the positioning of my uterus along with my breasts?

When I had my physical in September the young female doctor told me since I had experienced menopausal symptoms for so long I would never rid myself of them. I was offended by her cavalier attitude so I “borrowed” all her plastic gloves. I am hoping her practice stalled until they were able to restock.

Not that I don’t feel the heat on a daily basis, but as soon as I walk into the doctor’s office it’s as if an internal sprinkler goes off. Along with White Coat Syndrome, I morph into a moist mess.

You sit and wait. Of course the doctor is running late. I always attempt to be the daily opening act. How can you run late for the first patient unless you are a obstetrician?

When your name is finally called (just like when they announced, “Toby report to the principal’s office”) the first thing the nurse does is take your blood pressure. Surprise…it’s high.

Duh, you just experienced an unnecessary wait, you are surrounded by depressing pale green walls, sit on chairs that are upholstered in a fabric that resembles microscopic fungus, magazines are from 2011 and you await your faith…lumps, irregular pap smear, hemorrhoids, enlarged uterus, hysterectomy, cervical cancer…such a tempting, seductive list of things that could go possibly go wrong.

 I would love to discover that I am pregnant just to tip the scales favorably in honor of deeply middle-aged women.

I must say that despite all the projected negativity surround my impending appointment I think my doctor is cutting edge and a caring, righteous women. She has devoted much time, energy and research into making the lives of old menopausal broads more enriched and comfortable.

I need to dodge…shave and beautify the body, find a nice pair of socks because that’s the only article of clothing I can keep on  while I assume the position.