I was wondering whether I should blog this, as it’s rather personal, but then I decided I was probably being a prude. I mean, if Ed can fart discreetly on his blog, I can talk about this.

I went to the chiropractor for the first time about ten days ago. I expected to be lying face down and have the guy poke his hands expertly into my bare back, and I wasn’t prepared for how involved and “intimate” the procedure ended up being. I mean, I’m lying on my side, in my panties and a patient’s robe, and there’s this guy - my age - holding my foot between his thighs, holding my arms crossed against my chest and pushing into my upper buttcheek with his own body to get my pelvis to pop. All the while I’m thinking, “Hey! I don’t normally pay for this.” When he’s done both sides, he connects me to some sort of electric machine and leaves. His assistant disconnects me later.

Left me with a strange feeling akin to “what, no cuddling?”

But at least with the chiro there was foreplay. I mean, we did spend quite some time talking about my x-rays and exercise habits, occasionally drifting into unrelated topics like travelling. That’s really not bad.

However, I’ve recently experienced what I’d call a pretty extreme lack of bedside manner, at the gyno’s office. I’m looking for a new one.

This is how the visit went: his assistant asks me a few admin questions (address change and such) then she tells me to go to the exam room, drop my underwear, nylons and shoes, leave my skirt on and climb into the stirrups. I do this, then when I’m nicely set up in one of the most disgraceful positions imaginable, crotch duly pointing to the sky, the doctor (first time I see him in a year) comes in. He says hi, but doesn’t make eye contact. I have to crane my head to see him, and within seconds he’s poking around in there with a cold speculum, painfully pushing down on my stomach. No questions asked. Not 20 seconds later, he snaps off the glove and says “Ok, meet me in my office”.

I climb down, don’t bother putting on my stockings and shoes again, and walk into the adjoining office (remember I’m wearing a long skirt, it’s not like I’m walking around with Abraham Lincoln in the wind, if you know what I mean). He sees my bare feet and says “Oh my God! Get dressed! Don’t embarrass me!”, with this Kurtzian “the horror, the horror…” look on his face. This is the guy who was just palpating my FRIKKIN ovaries! NOW he wants me to be all modest? Embarrassed, I go put on my stockings and shoes, and when I return to the office he doesn’t wait for me to sit down, hands me a prescription and says “see ya next year”.

So, I’m dumping my gyno for both lack of foreplay and afterwards cuddling. Overreaction?