I had a doctor’s appointment yesterday. Just a regular check up with a dude who decided he’d like to look at vaginas for the rest of his life. Fortunately I didn’t have to drop trough and strap my heels into some stirrups. The guy just looked over some charts and asked me how much sex I get.
How many sexual partners have you had?
Wait, what? Is that even pertinent?
The naval medical student flicked his eyes up to mine. I bet I get laid more often than him.
“Eight.” Doc sucked his teeth. Naval medical student looked back at his chart.
“Do you use condoms and get tested between partners?”
“Does a bear shit in the woods?”
And that was the end of that conversation.
Doc flicked deeper through my medical file. “You’re due for another check up in about six months to make sure that dysplasia stays benign. You’re 25… Your birth control lasts for another year… Do you plan on having kids soon?”
Do you know anyone who wants me to be the mother of his children…?
Christ, Fizz. It’s always interesting to chat with you, and you could’ve just said “no.”
I mean, one day I’d like to be a mom, but I don’t think that’ll be for a while.
Well if I’m still around when that happens, you’ll have to come in and have a chat me with me. We’ll have to take the implant out of your arm and get a good control of your blood sugars so Mini Fizz is a healthy hell raiser.
You want me to name the second one after you? The first one is gonna be Spartacus Titan. Boy or girl, that’s gonna be the name.
I peed in a cup to make sure I wasn’t knocked up. I’m not.