I had my six-week appointment with my primary care physician on Tuesday. This is the guy who I switched away from for all my prenatal care because I didn’t want a dude looking at my lady parts. He also coincidentally delivered my baby because my OB didn’t do deliveries. I was cool with that because I figured I wouldn’t care who caught the baby as long as the baby came out. He also spent some time down there taking care of the business that is childbirth after the baby comes out. He saw the lady parts at the absolute worst they could possibly be seen and was polite enough to never speak of it. So, I saw him on Tuesday for my lady parts’ checkup.
(I know my dad reads this and I’m very sorry, Dad, but you might want to skip this paragraph.) My breasts used to be amazing. Perfect. The stuff of legends. Perky, firm, full, gorgeous. They are no longer. My doctor examined them for cancer, as per the usual when you go in for your lady parts exam, and I kind of felt bad for him that they were no longer of their former glory. No embarrassment. I didn’t say that to him, though. That’s just creepy. Then he looked at the land down under (once called the promised land, but no longer) and I gave not one crap. No shame. None.
(Ok, Dad, this is probably safe now.) They tell you that after childbirth, you will have no shame. I agree completely. I am so not satisfied with my body anymore (working on fixing that!) and at the same time I do not care who sees it. I had a friend coming over early after the baby and I was trying to pump before she got there. Seeing as how she was always late, I figured I had time. Nope. Halfway through she knocked on my door. I considered for a moment just continuing to pump when she walked in and decided that would probably make HER too uncomfortable. So I covered myself up. I was never really one for a whole lot of modesty before. One could not accuse me of having a moderated ego. But now it’s like, who cares?!?!?!!? Not me, not the doctor, not the nurse. No one.
(Dad, skip this part, too.) Speaking of nurses, when I had to go to the restroom for the first time post-baby, my nurse followed me in. I sat down on the toilet and while I relieved myself, she sprayed me down there with warm water. And it took awhile. A loooooooong while. And I stood up and looked down and thought of the ending of the movie Carrie. Or, you know, the elevator doors opening in The Shining. Whatever. The nurse saw that, too. The night before that, I had nurses “checking me” every few hours. The promised land had been conquered and became the land down under around the second or third time some woman did that to me. I’ll never forgive her for the pain she caused. Seriously, I’m traumatized! lol
(Safe from here on out, I promise!) So there it is. The dire truth about how childbirth robbed me of any sense of decency I once had. I mean, for societal reasons I will continue to cover up. I don’t want to run around getting arrested and stuff. But doctors? Pfft. Over it!
By the way, I’m doing very well. Healthy as a horse. I think that was the point I was going to make to wrap all this up. Yeah.