I go into the examination room and strip down. I am sitting there naked twiddling my thumbs when Shania Twain’s "I Feel Like a Woman" starts playing. I of course laugh out loud, hoping no one is near my door to hear. The hot doc walks in to a classic Chicago love song. I swear I couldn’t make this up if I tried.
Moments later he asks me if I have any problems with incontinence. I would much rather have this conversation with my unattractive wrinkly doctor. Having an 8, 9 and 10 pound baby did do some damage to my bladder, but I let him know that I was fine as long as I didn’t wait until I needed to pee really bad. Even then, it was like a drip not a gush! That was not good enough for him. He suggests physical therapy.
Is this some sort of joke?!? Only I would need physical therapy for my hoo ha. Why does this kind of thing happen to me? When I told Doug about the referral, he said he wasn’t surprised because Dr. McNotOldOrUgly specializes in pelvic floor problems. I’ve decided Doug has been noticing a new post-pregnancy aroma. I plan to get rid of any of my friends that thought I smelled like piss and failed to fill me in!