THAT'S A NEGATIVE GHOST WRITER....
I arrived at my OB/GYN appointment 30 minutes early (For those of you who are new to this blog, please refer to the...BIYATCH... posting).
They check my blood pressure. I don't understand why they check it BEFORE the appointment. I'm stressed the fuck out and walked up three flights of stairs to get here, of course my pressure will be increased. And it is.
When the nurse leaves, I takes my jeans and underwear off. I stick my finger down there for a sniff check and hop on the examine chair. For some strange reason, I check my hair in the mirror and make sure my bra isn't peeking out of my low cut top. Look at that cleavage line....I give myself an approving smirk and there's a knock at the door.
After explaining my sexual escapade two weeks ago, she motions for me to scoot down and spread eagle. "I don't see anything resembling a genital wart." she says. I immediately place my right hand in between my legs and feel around. "There it is." I tell her. She examines it and tells me it's nothing to be worried about. It's not a genital wart!!! That's a NEGATIVE Ghostwriter! No HPV outbreak! She gets a sample and says she'll have it tested for STDs.
She suggests that I start taking birth control pills. "They have new ones that can stop facial hair and help you lose weight and also prevent you from getting those annoying boils." I immediately imagine myself waking up in the morning without shaving in my routine. "Wait. You have high blood pressure. I'm sorry, but you aren't allowed to take any hormonal medication if you have high blood pressure." FUCK. I'm now experiencing a I wish I wasn't so chubby moment. "Well, just make sure you use condoms and get your blood drawn for a pregnancy test and VDRL."
I thank her and slide off the table. I put my clothes back on and look at the lab slip. She checked off VDRL, Pregnancy, HIV and all the Hepatitis types.
I head down to the lab and wait my turn. My number is called and my eyes enlarge about three times it's size. The room consists of three stations where the blood is drawn. Behind each station seats three different Phlobotomists. The first one has locks to his ears, caramel skin and bedroom eyes. The second is West African, with beautiful, dark skin and thin lips that disappear when he talks. The last Phlobotomist is a tall, basketball player looking man with a shaved head. All of them look no older than 30. I immediately hear my mother's nagging voice, in her thick British-Jamaican accent, "Always put on a bit of make-up before you leave the house. You never know who you'll see..." Phlobotomist number two motions me to come in. All three feast their eyes on my cleavage line. Then I remember the reason why I'm sitting in this seat. Shit. He looks at the lab slips and looks at me. Pregnancy test, VDRL, Hepatitis screening. He thinks I'm a slut. I just know it! Why else would a young woman get these tests together? Oh, well. I truly doubt I will see any of them again anyway.
The basketball player is the only one remaining in a trance. West African asks me to take my sweater off. When I do, they all make themselves look busy, but their eyes focus on my tits. I pretend as if my right arm is stuck in the sleeve and I do a little shake to make the twins jiggle.
HA! I'm sooo loving my fat right now! After fumbling around trying to find a vein, West African draws my blood, I watch it flow into the first tube. My peripheral catches dreads and the basketball player still entranced. West African keeps a serious look on his face and focuses on my silver bangles. When he's done, he stoically spits, "Have a good day, " to my chest and I get up. I strut my booty jiggle walk, while holding in my gut. I quickly turn around and catch all three phlobotomists, standing close to each other, transfixed on my ass, just waiting for me to leave so they can recap.
When I get in my car, my brain becomes flooded with what ifs. What if I had make-up on? What if I was going for a cholesterol screening? What if I'd seen them in a different setting? What if all three of them pinned me to the chair and started stripping my clothes off, two playing with my nipples with their tongues and the other tickling my clit. Mini-me starts twitching. I head to Burger King and get a tendercrisp chicken, bacon, cheddar ranch meal and head for home.
They check my blood pressure. I don't understand why they check it BEFORE the appointment. I'm stressed the fuck out and walked up three flights of stairs to get here, of course my pressure will be increased. And it is.
When the nurse leaves, I takes my jeans and underwear off. I stick my finger down there for a sniff check and hop on the examine chair. For some strange reason, I check my hair in the mirror and make sure my bra isn't peeking out of my low cut top. Look at that cleavage line....I give myself an approving smirk and there's a knock at the door.
After explaining my sexual escapade two weeks ago, she motions for me to scoot down and spread eagle. "I don't see anything resembling a genital wart." she says. I immediately place my right hand in between my legs and feel around. "There it is." I tell her. She examines it and tells me it's nothing to be worried about. It's not a genital wart!!! That's a NEGATIVE Ghostwriter! No HPV outbreak! She gets a sample and says she'll have it tested for STDs.
She suggests that I start taking birth control pills. "They have new ones that can stop facial hair and help you lose weight and also prevent you from getting those annoying boils." I immediately imagine myself waking up in the morning without shaving in my routine. "Wait. You have high blood pressure. I'm sorry, but you aren't allowed to take any hormonal medication if you have high blood pressure." FUCK. I'm now experiencing a I wish I wasn't so chubby moment. "Well, just make sure you use condoms and get your blood drawn for a pregnancy test and VDRL."
I thank her and slide off the table. I put my clothes back on and look at the lab slip. She checked off VDRL, Pregnancy, HIV and all the Hepatitis types.
I head down to the lab and wait my turn. My number is called and my eyes enlarge about three times it's size. The room consists of three stations where the blood is drawn. Behind each station seats three different Phlobotomists. The first one has locks to his ears, caramel skin and bedroom eyes. The second is West African, with beautiful, dark skin and thin lips that disappear when he talks. The last Phlobotomist is a tall, basketball player looking man with a shaved head. All of them look no older than 30. I immediately hear my mother's nagging voice, in her thick British-Jamaican accent, "Always put on a bit of make-up before you leave the house. You never know who you'll see..." Phlobotomist number two motions me to come in. All three feast their eyes on my cleavage line. Then I remember the reason why I'm sitting in this seat. Shit. He looks at the lab slips and looks at me. Pregnancy test, VDRL, Hepatitis screening. He thinks I'm a slut. I just know it! Why else would a young woman get these tests together? Oh, well. I truly doubt I will see any of them again anyway.
The basketball player is the only one remaining in a trance. West African asks me to take my sweater off. When I do, they all make themselves look busy, but their eyes focus on my tits. I pretend as if my right arm is stuck in the sleeve and I do a little shake to make the twins jiggle.
HA! I'm sooo loving my fat right now! After fumbling around trying to find a vein, West African draws my blood, I watch it flow into the first tube. My peripheral catches dreads and the basketball player still entranced. West African keeps a serious look on his face and focuses on my silver bangles. When he's done, he stoically spits, "Have a good day, " to my chest and I get up. I strut my booty jiggle walk, while holding in my gut. I quickly turn around and catch all three phlobotomists, standing close to each other, transfixed on my ass, just waiting for me to leave so they can recap.
When I get in my car, my brain becomes flooded with what ifs. What if I had make-up on? What if I was going for a cholesterol screening? What if I'd seen them in a different setting? What if all three of them pinned me to the chair and started stripping my clothes off, two playing with my nipples with their tongues and the other tickling my clit. Mini-me starts twitching. I head to Burger King and get a tendercrisp chicken, bacon, cheddar ranch meal and head for home.
posted by Chubby Chocolate @ 5:21 PM
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