I just have to get this off my chest and I don’t even care if it makes me sound like a bitter single person-
That’s because – I AM a bitter single person. Single people get SCREWED by society—All. The. Time .
Oh you know it’s true so just shut up.
You need some examples? Okay- um, let’s start with living expenses. Couples can split their living expense in half. Must be nice to live in a one-bedroom with 2 people. Split the cost of food, trips, utilities, household items…..
And taxes. Don’t even get me started on taxes— You a-holes got married so now you just automatically get a bajilion write offs for filing together? I mean. You already split your bills in HALF, and now you get to pay LESS in taxes? HOW THE F does that add up?
Let’s not forget that being a single WOMAN is like ten thousand times worse than being a single guy- our stock value goes down exponentially every year, we look older and saggier with age, where guys look more distinguished, and we STILL only earn 77 cents on the male dollar…
As if that wasn’t enough, yesterday I discovered another way that single women get royally screwed- let me tell you about it.
So I walk into the doctor’s office for a routine physical/annual exam. I’m in the waiting room filling out the phonebook sized stack of papers they handed me upon check-in, despite the fact that I have been coming here for years and that NOTHING IS WRONG WITH ME (physically, that is….) and NOTHING in my file has changed- I have the same insurance, the same address, I STILL have no family history of glaucoma. I STILL have no allergies. I STILL am not a retired veteran…. Isn’t there an “everything is exactly the same as last year” checkbox? Annoying.
Since it’s been a year, I forget how much this SUCKS, but I’m quickly reminded when I’m immediately asked to get on the scale. As the nurse is writing down my weight and height, I’m pleading with her, “Please take a few pounds off for my clothes. I have a heavy sweater on, this weighs at LEAST a pound. And I just ate lunch, can you just please minus out a sandwich off your chart?!” In reality, who cares what the doctor’s office thinks my weight is, but I’m still obsessing over it when she hands me the ever stylish paper vest for me to put on, takes my blood pressure and leaves.
Now I’m sitting in the exam room, freezing my ass off in the paper dinner napkin outfit looking at a very giant vagina diagram on the wall wondering why the hell they don’t put magazines in here too if they’re going to make you wait around for so long, because the last thing any woman wants to be looking at before she gets her vagina examined is a giant picture of a vagina in diagram form. Then I think about how everyone who comes in here is probably naked-ish too- unless you count the napkin, which you really can’t- and I wouldn’t actually want to touch a Cosmo that some naked lady before me was reading so maybe they could just put some more entertaining wall art up. I’m making a mental note to make sure I talk to someone about this or at the very least mention my suggestion in a Yelp review, when the doctor knocks.
I find it funny that she knocked. I mean, what did she think I was doing in here? Was she afraid she was going to accidentally see me naked before she purposely saw me naked? Anyway it was very nice manners of her and the gesture was appreciated. I also noticed that she was by herself which was kind of weird because usually there’s an entourage of people who come in with the doctor. Then I remembered that it’s only because I usually have a dude doctor and too many 20/20 episodes and Lifetime movies have been done about monkey business with guy doctors alone with female patients so they have to have witnesses in the room now. Personally I don’t mind having a gynecologist who is a 97 year old man because no other woman wants a 97 year old dude doctor so I never have to worry about getting an appointment when I invariably wait until the very last minute to refill my birth control prescription and have to call in a panic, begging for a time slot.
Anyway, homeboy was on vacation so they hooked me up with a new lady who was very nice and all….but another problem with women gynecologists is that they’re all about the chit chat. Like she wants to get to know me first or take me to dinner before we do the deed. Lickety split lady, I don’t have all day here, enough with the sweet talk already.
So now she’s asking me a bazillion questions- all of which I have answered in the thousand page questionnaire just a short time ago, but I politely answer.
I bet you’re thinking that I got so off-track about this gyno visit that I’m going to forget to tie it back to the original point about why being a single woman is the WORST- but don’t you worry my little pets, I’m getting there- SO CALM DOWN!!
Now comes the fun part for any single lady where they start asking about your sexual activity. Are you sexually active and if so how many approximate partners have you had since your last visit, blah blah blah. Here’s the part where you’re either :
1. Reminded and forced to admit out loud how little sex you’ve been having, which makes you feel instantly depressed and a desperate need to be drunk
2. Reminded and forced to admit out loud how slutty you’ve been over the past year, which makes you realize that none of these guys have worked out, otherwise you would be in a committed relationship with them, not telling your doctor about your little trysts and wiping tears of regret away with the paper napkin blanket that’s draped over your hoo-ha.
Oh but the fun doesn’t stop there! Next the doctor tells me what I think is the greatest news I’ve heard since finding out that Dunkin Donuts is coming to California…..
“Well, the reason I’m asking this is, The American Association of Vagina Regulations Group (Okay that’s not the real name of the group but I don’t remember the exact name of the vagina rule makers so allow me to improvise just a tad for the point of the story) has determined that pap smears are now only recommended every 3-5 years-“
At this point, I’m so excited I’ve jumped off the table and am dancing around the room in just my socks and my paper napkin dress singing, “No pap smear, no pap smear, la la la la” and doing the Running Man next to the stirrups, when I noticed she wasn’t done her sentence.
“- if you’re married or in a monogamous relationship,” she finishes.
I’m suddenly acutely aware that I’m mid-sprinkler dance move in a doctor’s office and the only thing I’m wearing that isn’t biodegradable are my black trouser socks.
“Wait just a damn minute,” I hiss at her. Are you telling me that MARRIED women only have to get a pap every 5 years but SINGLE people have to get one EVERY YEAR!?!”
“WELL, THAT’S JUST A BUNCH OF BULLSHIT,” I snapped, as I flung myself back on the table dramatically.
I consider myself to be an independent woman of integrity. I have never been interested in marrying a man for his money, for status, to make my parents happy, just so I can have a big princess wedding or because I hear my biological clock ticking. I’ve never ever wanted to be with a man for any other reason than love, compatibility, and companionship.
But I gotta tell you…..If I don’t find all that soon, I’m scooping up the first available guy and selling out for the every 5 year pap deal: put a ring on it- done and done.
**Update- There is a follow up to this post one year later at my doctor’s visit- never an uneventful trip to the gyno. Click here to read on about my lady parts checkup disasters.
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