Last night I was a having dinner with a friend of mine, who recounted a hilarious tale about her recent trip to the gynecologist, in order to get a birth control prescription. She’s currently sleeping with a younger guy (she’s 30, he’s 22) and they apparently have, uh, rather enthusiastic, somewhat rough, sex. My friend also has mild anemia, so she bruises easily. When she got to the doctor and was putting on her gown, she realized that she had forgotten that her chest was majorly bruised from a recent romp. Given that a breast exam is a routine part of a gynecological check up, she was instantly mortified about what her doctor would think. During the exam she pretended to be distracted by a particularly compelling article in Us Weekly, but after her doctor was through with his poking and prodding, he asked her to get dressed and come into his office. When she sat down, he said to her, “The bruises on your chest are cause for concern. Are you being abused by your boyfriend?” It was bad enough that he had noticed them, but to have to explain to her doctor — who’s pushing 70 — that her bruises were the result of rough sex and not physical abuse was downright mortifying. “No, I’m not being abused. I’m just dating a 22-year-old,” she said, in hopes that he would get her drift. She’s not sure if he understood what she meant, but she definitely thinks he didn’t believe her.
This story cracked me up, but also made me think that everyone must have at least one embarrassing gyno tale in their pocket. Tell yours, in the comments!