Paper Robes and Pap Smears
Hello friends!! Please forgive my Blog absence...I was boycotting the blog until Brett agreed that we could hire a maid. See, here’s the deal...Brett doesn’t think we need a maid because we have five kids which means 10 capable hands for cleaning and such. He is so confused. Those aren’t kids..they are SQUATTERS. They live in our home for free, eat our food, and leave a trail of junk behind. We need a maid to help with our squatter problem, and I came up with a brilliant plan to get one. A Blog Strike!!
Brett loves for me to write because he puts it on his Junk Town Revival website. He likes to keep things fresh on the website and likes when I post new blogs. So my plan was to use that against him to get what I wanted. Don’t judge. I’m just a gal trying to get a maid while the squatters are still in school. After about six weeks into the boycott, I really thought I was going to win this battle. Junk Town Revival has several festivals coming up, and Brett kept asking if I had a new blog to post before the festival season begins. My answer always was “No maid. No blog.” And yall, I thought I was about to win...until I came across a rough draft of a blog...written by BRETT!!!!!!! All I had to see were the words “national statues,” “policy,” & “immigration” to know his blog was going to be the lamest blog I have ever read. I couldn’t bear the thought of him publishing it. He saw me reading it and casually said, “No worries about your blog. If you don’t have one, I’ll just post mine.” And, folks, that’s what we call checkmate. So, here I am. Writing a blog entry. Maidless. Brett 1 Leigh 0
Blogging is awesome because it means my most embarrassing moments FINALLY have a purpose!! What’s the purpose you ask? To entertain others at the expense of embarrassing my children, of course. I can’t wait to hear one of the kids tell me, “You wrote about a pap smear???? SERIOUSLY!!???” I’m smiling big right now just thinking about it.
Disclaimer- This blog is going to be about exactly what the title suggests...so if the title makes you uncomfortable, read no further!! Although, I must question why the title would make you uncomfortable...did you come from a uterus? Was that uterus healthy? You can thank a pap smear for that!! Hey, sidenote, after every pap smear, I buy myself something special, just to thank myself for having a uterus. I call it my Pap Smear Purchase. Girls, get you a Pap Smear Purchase!! You deserve it!!
Pap smears are necessary, and I am a huge advocate for women’s wellness appointments. Wellness appointments are absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about...unless your name is Leigh Chamberlain...then it is a certainty that your wellness appointment will be one big embarrassing train wreck. I have left somewhat of a legacy at my gyno’s office. Sit back and enjoy the highlight reel...
On my first visit to the gyno, I was nervous and extremely embarrassed. I had no idea what to expect. They give you a plastic cup, a paper robe, a paper blanket, and very few instructions. I remember thinking “Ok, I wear the paper robe. Check. I pee in the cup. Check. But what in the world do I do with this paper blanket? I hope this means I’m going to get to take a nap!” Um. Nope. My doctor came in shortly, explained what a pap smear was, and then I knew exactly what to do with the paper blanket. Cover my mortified face. And that’s what I did...I hid my face under that blanket, even during my post consultation, for the first three years of wellness appointments. Fast forward 18 years later...now when I get those paper blankets, I wrap up in those bad boys and basically snooze thru the whole thing...which would explain how I fell off the table (well, the first time, at least).
Telling you I fell off the table at my gyno’s not once but twice should be all I have to say about that. But for the sake of embarrassing my children, let me explain in detail. The first time I fell off the table, I fell off the side of the table because I was asleep and was startled when my doctor came in. No biggie, right? People fall all of the time, right? Well, when I fell off the side, my paper robe got snagged on a stirrup. I fell. My robe stayed. Nothing like laying on the floor butt naked in front of your doctor and his nurse. Need a mental image? Ok. How about this- you ever throw a rock in a pond and watch the ripples move on top of the water? Yep. That happened. To my big, flabby body...to my big, flabby body in fluorescent lighting. As I was rippling everywhere, I stood up trying to cover myself with pieces of torn paper robe, and all I could say in my best Forrest Gump voice was “Sorry I ruined your roommate's bathrobe…” People, I have no idea why I said that. Or why I said that in a Forrest Gump voice, but I think it was because I had a concussion. But at least the first time wasn’t as embarrassing as the second time...stirrups are tricky and those exam tables are shorter than they appear. And that’s all I have to say about that.
At my most recent appointment, I knew that I was going to have to weigh myself and wasn’t looking forward to that. So I skipped breakfast. Because that totally makes sense...skipping one meal and weighing myself without one stitch of clothing on was going to make up for 37 years of bad eating habits, right? As a result of skipping breakfast, my stomach began to growl seconds into my exam. It began to make some really questionable noises that sounded like tiny toots. AND YOU DON’T WANT YOUR STOMACH TO MAKE TINY TOOT NOISES WHILE YOU ARE GETTING A PAP SMEAR, OK PEOPLE!!! TRUST ME!!! So, like a crazy woman, I kept saying, “Those are not tiny toots...that’s my stomach growling...ok? I skipped breakfast...to be skinnier when I weighed-in...those aren’t tiny toots, ok?? That noise that sounds like piiiiink-yeeeeeow, that’s not a tiny toot...that’s my stomach growling, ok? I skipped breakfast...to be skinnier...” And all through the exam, my stomach kept right on growling, in a tiny toot sort of way. I can’t even describe to you the relief I felt when my doctor was done and told me I could get dressed. I took off my paper robe to change back into my clothes and that’s when I noticed that a large section of the back of my robe had been torn off and was missing. I thought to myself, “What in the world happened to this robe!! Did they give me a torn one??” For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what had happened to the back of my robe...until I bent over to put my drawers back on, and that’s when I saw it. The strip of torn robe was stuck between my butt cheeks. Yep. While my stomach was making tiny toot noises, my butt was so hungry that it ate my paper robe. I’m a train wreck at wellness appointments, yall. An absolute train wreck. But I’m also a legend. A floor fallin’, tiny tootin’, robe eatin’ legend.