Cowgirl Up OR Why My Feet Were in Stirrups

There was no horse involved. Stop reading here if you wish. *smile*

I don't dislike going to the doctor. In fact, I quite like my doctor. Usually we chit-chat, prescriptions are written, I'm on my way. But I put off my "well woman" exam for around two years.
*sigh*
I may have put it off a little longer if my insurance guy hadn't said something to me. And really, my Mom had a tumor that no one could see or feel so why was I being such a WUSS and not doing this one small thing???
Because it hurts like a bitch.
This may not be true for every woman. Some find it uncomfortable. Some zone out and go elsewhere. Me? I'm in pain the entire time.
I swear to GOD I felt the q-tip in the back of my throat.
So I get to the doc's. Sign in. Called back pretty quickly. Am shown to "the room" where the festivities will take place. Told to change and then wait.
There is a pink paper pile on the patient bed thing. I pick up the first piece. It is made out of that shit the dentists clip across your chest so that you don't dribble on yourself. Paper. But nice gingham like paper, if that makes sense. It looks quite like a pattern for a vest once I get it unwrapped and pray to God I don't rip an important part and have my right nipple hanging out the entire procedure.
That should be the least of my worries.
So I strip down and put this paper blouse on. Then I fold this lovely matching square and drape it across my lower half.
I am...not happy. In fact, I'm muttering "this sucks" under my breath the entire time. It seems to calm me a bit.
In comes the doc and nurse. I lie back so she can do the breast exam. No biggie. I thank the good Lord that though there is cancer in my family, it's not prevalent or pervasive.
The only issue would be that my lovely pink cover-up that is draped across my naughty bits keeps slipping. My doc smiles and jokes that perhaps they need to put a hole in it and catch it on my belly button ring. *grins*
After my breasts have been tucked back into their temporary pink paper home, I must place my feet in the stirrups.
*rubs temple*
I hate this.
I've had three children. I've had this exam done before. It doesn't fucking matter!!!
It is...hell.
Finally, I can remove my feet from those damned stirrups and sit up. Q-tip is labeled and about to be sent off to the lab gods. I can put my clothes back on and try to purge this office visit from my mind.
I live in Oklahoma. Stirrups should be good things. *shuddering* Alas...no.
Grins*