Insert short, amateur stand up routine about going to the gyno, and how it sucks, beginning with “Ladieeesssss, what’s the deal with –” and ending simply with “…schmear.”

Living in a new place means finding a new lady doctor, which is just really hard, because you never know what you’ll be getting yourself into, i.e., who will be getting into you. OH! But I did some googling  and  perused some yelp, and selected one, tried her out this morning.   It was the least traumatic lady doctor experience I’ve ever had. She was so kind, funny and articulate that I nearly hugged her. She explained everything carefully. We made jokes. She drew pictures. I’m pretty sure at one point we high fived. When I awkwardly, fearfully brought up fertility, and if I should like, start to worry or think about it, though I don’t want a baby anytime soon, but like should I start to think about that? but I want that, but I don’t want that, she actually said to me: “If by the time you’re 35, you haven’t found anyone awesome enough to put a baby in you, we’ll freeze some eggs for ya.” Kathleen: Thank you.  Here is your official invitation to be my wise, funny aunt, who answers all my questions, who gets me and gets the weird stuff.