MY BLOG IS 7 INCHES LONG

LET'S GET (a) PHYSICAL! PHYSICAL!

Of all the mysteries of the universe I have pondered....how far a man can jam his finger up my ass was never one of them. Today's story of Chinese finger-cuffs-gone-wrong came about because I had not had a get-yer-freak-on physical in two years and whether I liked it or not...being as I am 40 now...unfortunately I was due.

So I make an appointment with the new doctor (my old one had retired) and I head over to meet my fate head on. The nurse checks my vitals (presumably to make sure that I won't have a heart attack when he does the five knuckle shuffle on my battered colon) and then has me put on a gown. ugh. This emasculating moment is almost the worst part of the exam..I mean why don't you just have me put on some lipstick and an ankle bracelet at that point? *sigh*

My new doctor impresses me right off the bat by being 15 minutes late, and when I meet him, I feel like I can't really hold it against him because he looks like Morgan Freeman...and dammit...no one can be mad at Morgan Freeman for very long.


I guess it's an upgrade from my last Doctor, whom looked like he belonged on the set of Slumdog Millionaire....or the one who looked like Long Duck Dong from Sixteen Candles....which now makes this the fourth ethnicity that has lost a knuckle in the recesses of my ass...so I got that goin' for me (#3 was a white bread honky).

So anyway, Prior to the doctor arriving (without a dozen roses for our first date I might add...I mean Jesus is it too much to ask for some romance once in a while?)....er...where was I....oh. right. Um...so ok! So the new doc comes in and he asks me a few personal questions like do you smoke, have you ever been raped on roofies, does this smell like chloroform etc etc...and then it's go time.

LET THE SEDUCTION BEGIN!

The doctor starts out by blinding me with his pen light followed by the tongue depressor routine (or as I like to think of it...mood lighting and a quick check of my gag reflex wink wink). He follows this "routine" by touching me all over, pausing at my moobs. I assume he was looking for lumps (cancerous lumps as opposed to my humps...my humps..my lovely lady lumps) but regardless, I am getting nervous and start to sweat worse than a whore in church. He then proceeds to have me do some seductive heavy breathing while he listens through the stethoscope after which he lays me down and starts touching my belly playing a rousing game of "Does this hurt?". I've got to say...there's nothing quite like heavy petting followed by heavy foreshadowing....

He asks me to stand on this platform thing that he pulled out of the exam table and then it's time for the final phase of the exam.

(or as I like to call it....THIRD BASE)

He putters around by the cabinetry prolonging my agony while he takes out a tube of anal lube which had the picture of those two guys from Brokeback Mountain on it (oh come on...you didn't see at least ONE Brokeback joke coming out of this now did you?) and the rubber gloves. *gulp* It's.....that time.

....or not. He sits down in front of me, wanting to savor every moment of my uncomfortable experience. He pulls up my dress and asks me to hold it there like a woman from the 1700's doing a curtsy. He then grabs my Fruit of the Looms and begins yanking them down with one hand. This takes a few tugs because there is a reason they call them "tighty whiteys". I cannot explain how awkward it is to be de-panty-ed by another man. I mean I have done my fair share of de-panty-ing to the opposite sex and for the love of God it felt like I was being seduced.

AWK-WEEEEEERD!

So there I am....dress up around my treasure trail, undies 'round my knees, and he starts playing with my balls. He must have thought they were going to tell him something akin to the answers you would get from one of those Magic 8-Balls and apparently the answer he was getting was "Ask again later" because then he starts feeling up the other one. Dear GOD the pain was excruciating. if only the Doctor would do something to take my mind off the indignity of this man grabbing my change purse and playing with it like an X-Box controller (which he did next whilst having me cough). And then it was over. *phew*

What comes next was kind of a surprise. I mean I know the prostate check was next, and every doctor likes to do things his own way....but his methods made me wonder if he has watched the movie The Secretary one too many times. In other words, he has me turn around on my little diving platform, lean forward, and rest my forearms on the exam table.


The first few guys that checked my prostate, did so with incredible speed. I mean they are setting land speed records with their exams here....almost as if they were doing it on a dare, rather than trying to actually get an accurate reading on whether my prostate is getting large and needs to go on the Atkins Diet. I mean if you want to point to my brain, there are easier ways of doing it. Just sayin'. Anyway, these first two gentlemen did your standard bend-over-the-table-like-a-prison-guard-searching-you-for-contraband technique. Now my last doctor, he favored the lay-on-your-side-and-curl-into-the-fetal-position-so-I-can-mine-for-gold technique. This was fine for me because I was already in that position sucking my thumb as I attempted to block that 15 minutes of my life out. Wait. Did I say 15 minutes? I mean...15 seconds. yeah that's it.

Now I have to say that since I am standing on this little platform, I have to keep my feet together to maintain balance....and if my feet are together, then so are my arse cheeks. So in order to uh.....drive his point home....he makes like my marshmellowy ass cheeks are THE WORD....and he needs to spread the word. I resist the urge to utter a sound effect like velcro being undone as he parts my cheeks like he's opening up a newspaper....I mean the guy spread my arse cheeks so far apart, I thought he was going to put his face in there and peer through my eyes like a Human View Master!


Inevitably....I feel something slide into place. I have just enough time to think to myself "gee...that finger looked deceivingly small when I spied it earlier..." before the doctor started rooting around checking my prostate. I mean if he was any further up there I'd swear he was going to strike oil, but before I could ask him if he was looking for an answer to the high price of gas or if he he was playing a solo game of Rock Paper Scissors back there (and I think Rock just won)....he pulls out. *phew* It's OVER. It's finally...*WOAH*...and in it goes again....and by "it" I mean his wrist.

At this point, my fractured psyche was busy blocking out this second violation with images of puppy dogs and Christmas trees so I was unable to ask him the questions burning in the back of mind. Questions such as..."Was I born with two prostates?"..."Are you trying to check my prostate or REMOVE IT?"...and "What do you think Tiger Wood's chances are at the Masters this year?"...but alas. It was too late and the psychotic break from reality was complete. On the plus side...he removed his appendage (or was that a coat rack from the lobby?) and we were done. Well. Thank the Good Lord Above that this unpleasantness is finally behind us thought I, as I pull my thumbs out from where I had buried them (in my eye sockets)....and that was when round three of what would be forever known as the Colon Blow Trifecta happens....

Yep. He rams his BOOM STICK back in for Round Three. At this point I can't be sure I trust my senses, but I BELIEVE he said something akin to "THIS IS FOR SLAVERY!" as he assaulted my tenderized back door man cave yet again. I can't be sure, but my anus was either completely numb or had been burned off from friction. I don't know. At the very least I was going to have to downgrade my asshole from a brown eye to a black eye on account of the bruising. "Doc...Seriously.....are you trying to solve a braille rubik's cube in there?"

...and then at that point, he snaps out of it and removes his forearm.

I half expected to turn around and see Dennis Hopper wearing an oxygen mask from Blue Velvet screaming "DON'T FUCKING LOOK AT ME!!!!" but no. It was just the doc. The guy then refused to cuddle or make eye contact and I was forced to do "The Walk of Shame" down the hall to the Nurses' station where I was passed off to the nurse on duty. I then hobbled out of the doctor's office looking more bowlegged than a novice cowboy whom had just been on horseback for the past 8 hours not knowing what day it was...but certainly glad to be alive.

I don't know if there has been any permanent psychological damage....but it does seem like more than a coincidence that I am now addicted to poking myself on Facebook. That and the fact that every time I take a dump...sooner or later my finger ends up lodged in my asshole.

The Moral of the story is : Always pay your medical bills on time because the late fees they impose on you are a BITCH.