Don't Forget Your Panties

Yes. I do mean panties. When going to see a doctor, please wear them. Not thongs, not g-string. I'm talking briefs. Better yet..break out the granny panties.

Yes, doctors are professionals and they behave in a professional manner, but don't think for a second they won't come home and grimace while telling us wives about some ill fitting or questionable panty judgement. Only do it if you want to give us a chuckle.

I don't care if you're some uber-skinny super model (even they have cellulite until they get airbrushed), nothing looks hot under a hospital gown. In fact, I'm pretty sure when you put on a gown it immediately turns you skins a funky color of green. I know. I've been there and think of the ramifications for me!

Here's what went down.

To make a very long story short, I had some non-elective surgery. It left me battling a pain syndrome in my jaw of all places. I was referred to a neurologist at Doc H's hospital. I followed the MA into the exam room and was perplexed when she handed me a hospital gown and asked me to undress leaving on my undergarment. The pain was in my jaw; not my back, not my leg.

So I began to undress. As I removed my slacks, I realized my mistake (a mistake that would come back to haunt me for years and still does!). I forgot to wear my most modest, granny panties.

Now, you must know this about me- I gave up wearing any kind of bikini briefs as soon as my butt bubbled thanks to the phenomenon known as the freshman 10. I'd walk to campus and by the time I got to Chem, I had a wad of material stuffed up my cheeks. Brassieres are uncomfortable enough, why suffer any more than necessary? PLUS, I just hate panty lines. It's one of my pet peeves.

There I was in my g-string and hospital gown waiting for the neurologist. I figured, no harm, no foul - the pain is in my jaw, right? Didn't stress out too much about it.

Dr. 'I Have a HUGE Forehead Cuz My Brain's So Big' (aka Dr. Forehead) walks into the exam room and greets me. He questions. I answer. Even though I know it's noted my medical record, I mention something about Doc H since he seems to be the giant pink elephant sitting in the middle of the exam room. HIPAA. Dr. Forehead is receptive and makes a little small talk.

This are going well. We are almost done.  Yippee. Home free!

Then it happened. "Mrs. Doc H, I would like to take a look at your spine. Please turn around and bend over to touch your toes." GASP! and DOUBLE FML!

I've got news for you. There is no way under the sun you can bend over, touch your toes and hold the back of your hospital gown closed. So, Dr. Forehead was (basically) mooned by Your Doctor's Wife.

I run into Dr. Forehead (and sometimes his wife) at conferences and hospital banquet dinners. Every time I shake their hands, I always wonder if they're both thinking of my g-string like I am.

UGH.