We already knew my vagina had commitment issues.

Capping off an already splendid day, I have a cyst that won’t go away, so I’m on my way to the doctor just to be 100% sure I’m not dying. I’m ALMOST positive, but symptoms of lady cancer are, like, fatigue, upset stomach, and menstrual changes — so, you know, not at ALL vague things most women have.

I hate needing medical attention anywhere in my vagina’s orbit. My gyno and I have a once-yearly relationship and I’m pretty OK with that. I’m not really looking for anything next-level.

Plus the only available doctor is male, which makes me realize how long it’s been since I’ve had a man in the region. I’m all self-conscious about it and spiffed it up a bit, as if otherwise mine could possibly be the most offensive vagina he’ll see today.

Healthcare: The Singleton Payer Option

Conversation with a girlfriend…

Friend: “Did you see a doctor?”

Me: “Yeah, because you see those commercials now where some earnest, well-intentioned woman is all, ‘Hey, is your shit different? You might be dying! Of the lady cancers!'”

Friend: “Well, If your SHIT is different, that’s really never optimal.”

Me: “Yeah, I’m not checking THAT. Whatever that is, if it happens, I’ll just die from it. But my ladybits are good, the doctor told me.”