I’m at the classy suburban branch of Penn Medicine, and the white trash in me is SO tempted to walk in and be like, “‘Sup. I’m here ass early in the morning to have you invade my vagina with technology.”
Regular ultrasound to see my beautifully barren womb ✔️
Vaginal ultrasound to double check for any other invaders ✔️
The gel they put on the wand was so cold it was like being fingered by a rocket pop, and it’s never great to have something inside you that you didn’t invite in (vaginal vampire?), but nothing terrible.
I realize I’m being pretty cavalier about what IS actually a test to check for big scary issues, but a) the initial biopsy they took came back fine so I’m pretty sure I’M fine, and b) I have no other mental setting than equating Very Serious tests to being fingered by a rocket pop.
When I first saw today’s headlines giving Kellyanne Conway shit for having her feet on a couch, I thought, “Goddamn, don’t we have more pressing things to fret about? Obama without a jacket, Conway’s feet — you’re so trifling. This is why we can’t have nice things!”
But, um…then I saw the photo in question and… Oh. Oh, honey… *sigh*
I don’t care about your feet on the couch, but damn, girl, get your VAGINA off the couch!
I was debating what to post today but couldn’t decide. And that was CLEARLY because the Lord Baby Jesus knew I’d see this 5 minutes later and laugh so hard my stomach hurt:
“Jesus be a fence around this baby’s mother’s Love Pocket. May it recover, in His MIGHTY name. I IMMEJATELY started doing kegels upon seeing the picture because I got stressed by proxy.”
“This baby walked out of his mothers vagina with a career and bills.”
“…My uterus just put up a ‘closed forever’ sign when I read this. Any eggs that were left over just scrambled themselves to save my poor lady bits from that type of destruction. I’ll be over in the corner with my legs crossed thinking about ice packs and Percocet.”
P.S. I am aware I’m a bad person. But some of the comments are so, SO funny.