While we’re on vacation we’re running a few PPP’s (popular posts from the past):
Joyceland ladies–we are so lucky that today a trip to the gyno can be SUCH a pleasant and fun experience. This wasn’t always the case. In this 1822 drawing, the female patient is receiving what’s called a ‘compromise procedure.’ The doctor kneels in front of her, but cannot see her ‘parts.’ Seems to us that lots of ‘unneccessary fishing around’ had to occur during the compromise procedure. We give this zero out of four stars. Makes you think we’ve got it sooooo much better now, doesn’t it???
Do you still dread going to the gynee once a year even though today you need not make any comromises? We’ll in Joyceland we’ve got an idea for you. We read this little story in Robert Holden’s be happy and it delighted us to no end! It was told by a woman who accidentally found a way to add some Joyceland sparkle to her life:
‘Early one morning, I received a call from the doctor’s office to say my appointment with the gynecologist had been brought forward to 9:30 a.m. that day. I had only just packed everyone off to work and school, and it was already around 8:45 a.m. The trip to his office took about 35 minutes, so I had no time to spare.
As most women do, I like to take a little extra effort over hygiene when making such visits. But this time there was no time for a shower, so I rushed upstairs, threw off my dressing gown, wet the washcloth that was sitting next to the sink, and gave myself a quick wash ‘down there’ to make sure I was at least presentable. I threw the washcloth in the laundry basket, donned some clothes, hopped in the car, and raced to my appointment.
I was in the waiting room only a few minutes when I was called in. Knowing the procedure well, I hopped up on the table, gazed up at the ceiling, and pretended I was some other place a million miles away from where I was. I was a little surprised when the doctor said, “My, we have made an extra effort this morning, haven’t we?” but I didn’t respond. The appointment over, I heaved a sigh of relief, went home, and finished my day as usual.
After school, my six-year-old daughter, who was playing quietly by herself, went into the bathroom. She called out, “Mom, where’s my washcloth?” I told her to get another one from the cupboard. She called back, “No, I need the one that was here by the sink. It had all my glitter and sparkles in it.”
Wanna spice up your next trip to the gynee? How about adding in a little sparkle and glitter ‘down there’? Just tell the doc you heard about it in Joyceland.