I went in for my annual exam yesterday. (Let that sentence be a warning unto you, fellas.) An unexpected benefit to delivering a baby is that these annual visits are much less dreadful.
First of all, there’s only one person in the room who is expecting to look at your vagina. Though, I will tell you, a pelvic exam is much less festive without bright lights, beeping machines, a mirror, 15 nurses and your spouse in tow.
Also, the infamous “you may feel a little pressure” is a laughable warning to give a woman who, the last time she heard that, proceeded to push a nine-pound replica of her husband out of her lady parts. I’ve got your pressure right here.
Anywho, I love going to doctors offices because of how they decorate their exam rooms with 1984-looking, plastic replicas of human organs. For example:
The NuvaRing on display in the middle there gave me pause. For those of you not familiar with it, The Ring is a form of birth control that resembles and feels like those glitter/water bracelets you wore 20 at-a-time in the 80’s.
Except, you don’t put this bracelet on your arm. The Ring accessorizes you from the inside.
I gave it a go once. For about two hours in the summer of 2007.
I was little confused at how it should work, so I read the manual. Those are always so helpful. I did as instructed, but something didn’t feel right. I took it out and called my doctor’s after hours line.
Me: Hey, I don’t think I did this right.
Doc: I don’t make house calls for vaginal birth control. If you like, you can come back to the office tomorrow and I can put it in for you.
Me: Would you make fun of me if I did that?
Me: (sigh) Nevermind.
Doc: Why don’t you get your partner to help you?
For the next hour, I tried to make it work sitting, standing, crouching. I considered taking a running jump and landing on it. I even Googled potential solutions. Don’t do that, by the way.
Then, out of desperation I called out to Dave:
Me: Baby! I need your help!
Me: Yes! The doctor said so.
Dave: There’s no way I’m doing that.
Maybe it was frustration, or how hard I was laughing by this point, but suddenly, it worked!
Giddy, I ran out of the bathroom and stood before Dave a proud, baby-proof woman. In what I’m sure was a display of grace and dignity, I lifted my arms to the sky in a Rocky-like fashion, jumped up and yelled “I did it!” No sooner did my feet hit the ground than I grabbed my nether regions, eyes wide open and knees turned in.
It shot out, ya’ll.
Not like a cannon or anything, but it certainly was headed for the exit.
The next day, defeated, I started back on the pill. Six years later, Dave and my doctor still are laughing at me.
To the millions of ladies who use and swear by the NuvaRing, I’m happy for your uterus. As for me and my gal, we’ll be sticking with a non-projectile solution.