Recently, I was reading the latest issue of Glamour, when I stumbled upon an interesting little tid-bit. It was one of those itty-bitties that is hidden on the bottom corner of the page. You could possibly miss it if you flipped through too fast or if you got caught up smelling all of the new perfume samplings.
Not that I do either of those things…*cough*
Anyhow, back to business, the little tidbit was part of a question answer section with an OB/GYN. The question that got my attention was this one,
“Do ob-gyns expect women to be groomed and waxed down there?”
I thought the answer would be something along the lines of, “Of course, we are not interested in gals unleashing their mega-bushes, spread eagle on our table. I hate having my eyeballs gouged out by stray hairs.”
But that wasn’t the answer.
I know.
But, really, how many times have you thought about this whole fiasco before you ventured off to the one that examines your nether regions? I don’t necessarily mean that you wondered what they expected, but you know, groomed yourself for the appointment . Or maybe you didn’t groom yourself in fear of what they might think.
(I never know with you ladies. For all I know, some of you probably have your hair trimmed into shapes resembling lightening bolts.)
Maybe this sounds silly to you?
Probably, it does. If it doesn’t, why are you so damned secure about someone inserting tools into your privates?
Really, for most of us, the privates doctor is the only person aside from the person we are doing the horizontal (and sometimes vertical) tango with that sees our lady bits. It only seems natural to be somewhat nervous, and even concerned, about the display of our privates.
Now, for those of you not indulging in Glamour, I will share with you her answers.
In reply to the initial question, the privates doctor, Dr. Hilda Hutcherson says that ob-gyns rarely pay attention to the appearance of your party barn, because they are too busy trying to stare down your vulva. (I promise I paraphrased that. She did not say stare down your vulva. That was all me. I. am. inappropriate.)
The person asking questions was apparently as in doubt as I, because I fail to believe if someone busts out a huge mega-bush they would definitely notice, and be as disgusted as someone who is eye to eye with vaginas all day could possibly be.
They then asked, ” You really don’t even noticed the way we look?”
Dr. Hutcherson then replied that, ” If your hair is so long that it gets in the way of the speculum, we may notice, but we won’t judge you.”
Whatever, they are so judging with you are when you super hair syndrome.
She went on to add that, “…if you’re bald as the day you were born, it’ll only get my attention because it’s different.”
Maybe it’s just me, but I found this whole little thing interesting. I have always wondered if ob-gyns judged their patients by their privates. True Story.
To close, because this post is apparently going no where appropriate, but I must post it due to the time spent writing it, I am leaving you with this hilarious story I’ve received via email about 3000 times, even from my grandma, about privates grooming.
I was due later that week for an appointment with the gynecologist when early one morning I received a call from his office: I had been rescheduled for early that morning at 9:30am. I had just packed everyone off to work and school and it was around 8:45 already.
The trip to his office usually took about 35 minutes so I didn’t have any time to spare. As most women do, I’m sure, I like to take a little extra effort over hygiene when making such visits, but this time I wasn’t going to be able to make the full effort. So I rushed upstairs, threw off my dressing gown, wet the washcloth and gave myself a wash in “that area” in front of the sink, taking extra care to make sure that I was presentable.
I threw the washcloth in the clothes basket, donned some clothes, hopped in the car and raced to my appointment. I was in the waiting room only a few minutes when he called me in. Knowing the procedure, as I am sure you all do, I hopped up on the table, looked over at the other side of the room and pretended I was in Hawaii or some other place a million miles away from here. I was a little surprised when he said:
“My…we have taken a little extra effort this morning, haven’t we?” but I didn’t respond. The appointment over, I heaved a sigh of relief and went home. The rest of the day went normal, some shopping, cleaning and the evening meal, etc.
At 8:30 that evening my 14 year old daughter was fixing to go to a school dance, when she called down from the bathroom, “Mom - where’s my washcloth?” I called back for her to get another from the cabinet.
She called back, “No - I need the one that was here by the sink. It had all my glitter and sparkles in it.”
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