The Gate Keeper

Recommended reading: The nasty story we both are reacting to!!

Um, Ew.

I’m horrified.

While the most “under” I’ve ever been is when I had my wisdom teeth out (if hands went anywhere south of my jaw line we are in trouble), I still feel incredibly violated and in need of a hot shower after reading this article. And maybe a drink.

Call me a prude but when it comes to that “area” I consider myself a bit of a Gate Keeper. Usually, I like to have a handle on who gets to see my woman bits, and to be perfectly honest, I also prefer to know names most of the time. Not to mention that before that area is generally exposed to friends and/or strangers, this Gate Keeper also likes to engage in certain mental and possibly decorative preparations.

I get that these would be future medical professionals taking turns sitting in front of and inspecting my birthing canal. However, the fact that Doogie and his colleagues are doing this while I lay unconscious, drooling, and unaware, seems a wee bit invasive… and a little bit like an alien abduction.

Unless I am on the operating table flatlining, and the only thing that will save me is an “emergency pelvic exam”, I would expect the doctors to carry out only the procedures I’ve signed up for. It only seems fair.
It’s true that during consensual pelvic exams with my own doctor, I often wish she would club me over the head to spare the awkwardness of the procedure. However I do appreciate her guiding me through the process and commenting on my choice of toe nail polish. It’s kind of nice to be awake and alert while your most private parts are being examined … just saying.

I’m not against hands on training – especially in the medical profession – and I understand that in order for these people to get good at their jobs they have to practice. Believe me, I want these people to be good at their jobs – they get paid enough.
I just feel as though there are certain ethics that should be followed…. kind of like buying a lady dinner and opening a car door.
Ask First. Ask me nicely..... and who knows? Maybe I’m feeling generous and just might grant Doogie and his friends front row tickets to the show.

Bare and Unaware (casting call)

Ew. Ew. Ew. My woman parts quiver with disgust. 

I am fairly confident that there are a few other ways in which medical practitioners to-be could get their hands wet, so to speak, which don’t involve a completely anesthetized drool -cake who is under the impression her nether regions are being left in their hopefully (but unlikely) pristine pre-surgery condition. 

This is slightly reminiscent of those awful college horror stories, involving skanky little jersey chasers who happen to slurp up one too many coolers at the frat house (rookie mistake), who then pass out in compromising positions only to be approached by Mr. Pathetic who takes this as a prime opportunity to cop a feel. Not cool at all. Except the difference here, is that Mr. Pathetic will likely serve some time in the slammer, not get promoted to Chief of Surgery for his actions. 

The scary and hairy (ha) truth is, this is a common practice, done in a Hospital, in a controlled environment, by a team of respectable medical practitioners and their mentally privileged muses. WHAT?!!!

There have GOT to be some desperate Vag models out there, who are willing to get paid good money to put their manicured little who-ha’s on display for the-- as Single White Femme calls them-- Doogies of the world. There’s gotta be some women just dying to share their prized crown jewels, to get some dough to pay for those implants they have always wanted. Why can’t these women be the catching mitt for all the prodding gloved fingers instead of.... my grandmother? 

This is an official casting call for VAG MODELS. Anyone with a manicured lawn, who doesn’t mind having some seasonal pruning done by a crew of curious polymaths? Come on…

We warned you. NOT for the faint of heart.