Girl Crush, M.D.

Those who know me, know that I have had a lot of strange career goals in life. At five years old, when a typical response to "What do you want to be when you grow up?" would be, "Ballerina" or "Veterinarian", my well thought-out and passionate response was always, "Clerk." Like, grocery store clerk. Why? Because I liked to press buttons and found the scanner mesmerizing. It also seemed like a good job for an elderly person, and I was born very very old.

Once matured, by the ripe age of eight or nine, I wrote a letter to the Mickey Mouse Club (like the Britney/Justin version) decreeing that my new dream job was, wait for it, OBGYN. Gross, you may think. Why would such a young girl want to be a vag' doctor? Well, let me remind you, Dr. Cliff Huxtable, my forever hero, was an OBGYN. The only think better to me then being an OBGYN was being a black OBGYN, but I would settle for being a white one. The thrill of delivering babies! Having an office in my Brooklyn brownstone! Nothing could talk me out of this path, until I took a cab ride in London--then I had a whole new perspective on my future (although that's a whole other post).

Back to my dream of being a vaginacologist... My motives were pure, my inspiration Cosby-ian. So, it seems to make sense that going to the gyno for me now would be no big deal...not only no big deal, but like, a little peak into what would have, should have, could have been. If only my gynecologist wasn't the prettiest girl ever, who is so super cool she puts every cool girl you've ever met to shame. She's rich, tall, drops 'f' bombs while you're in the stirrups, has a beagle mix, etc... In short, I have a freakin' girl crush on my gynecologist. On paper, this sounds funny. But, in real life, it induces complicated feelings of intense terror (especially during the breast exam) and complete and utter embarrassment.

When the exam begins, with the casual talk and easy questions all is well. It's like we're old friends; all we need is a cocktail and some genuine knowledge about one and other in order to facilitate some actual gossip. I feel like I've entered some upper social echelon. I'm bff's with some hip young doctor. Then, I realize that she has had enough small talk, that she's just being polite and making me comfortable for what becomes that most awkward 7 minutes of my day, week, month, year, probably life.

Sometimes I miss the old days when I would sort zone out and pretend not to know what they were looking at down there. But then, I remember, this lady is a good doctor...and that's all she is. My doctor. My super pretty, super cool doctor.



P.S. I'm not the only one...I've had several friends who I have sent there, and all of them come back feeling conflicted, yet somehow giddy.