Planned Parenthood was recently mentioned in a comment in regards to my Just Hurry up Already post. This reminded me of my one and only trip to Planned Parenthood.Flashback to January 2006 (the day I adopted little Timmy from the Dallas SPCA *kisses to the pooch**)
I needed to get one of those fun examinations ladies get and PP was open Saturday so why not. I felt cold and uncomfortable dressed in that flimsy sheet with holes awaiting a strange doctor to take a peak into the furry furnace. In walks a young lady, the doctor, and we talk a bit, exchange ill at ease pleasantries and then I lie back, staring at the ceiling.
Staring at the ceiling, I could only think of evaporating into thin air until I heard oohing and ahhing. Already stressed to the max, I panicked with her sounds. “There’s so much color in it. I see some reds, a bit of gray, some black”. I begin crying hysterically, because this routine check up has turned into me having a life threatening disease, some sort of STD, a crazy colored discharge I didn’t realize existed! Terror! Horror! Shock! I was wishing she’d just get to the bottom of it, quit all the small talk and hand me my sentence. Next thing I know, this broad is talking about windmills and, “what does that say?” The doctor wasn’t looking up the furnace; she was looking at the tattoo on the inside of my ankle.
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