Doctor McHottie

Dear DJ,
As a rule of thumb... One should always look cute for there first doctor's visit... And shave your legs

So I've been having some aches and pains in my bones to make a long story....(of how I was never checked for scoliosis in elementary school, probably bc I was an asshole kid and my teachers sought pleasure in the fact that maybe if they sent me to the library instead of the scoliosis checking    room, that I would never reach my full potential of being 5'8 and a supermodel and be forced to stand a mere 5'7.5 due to a crooked spine)...short, today I went to the orthopedic surgeon.

Upon arrival my mother, who has come in from out of town, and I find out that my appointment was for tomorrow. F*ck. And Dr. Patrick* doesn't come to the office on Wednesdays. Ahh Double F*ck. My dad has made it halfway to meet us at this point. (It's always a family affair, yes) Soooo Dad turns around back home.

After convincing the nurses that it's their fault that my mom and I cannot read our own handwriting or check a calendar to see how the days of the week coincide with certain numbers of a given month...We get an appointment with Dr. McHottie*.

Enter: Nurse Wetblanket that drives an eclipse (probably) blah blah X-rays...

Enter: "Winnie the Pooh" scrubs X-ray lady who looks more qualified to cook oatmeal at Little Folks day care than to scan pictures of my bones.. But hey I'm not here to judge..err?...click, turn, don't breathe, click blah blah back to exam room...

Enter: Dr. McHottie....
Cue: heavenly gates opening music, fireworks, etc. Tall blue eyes, gorgeous facial structure...
Realization of what I look like/wearing: mental celebration and all plans of me as Mrs. Dr. McHottie stop abruptly.

After some slight discussion of how I'm feeling and me throwing in every chance I can how much I work out (because I need him to know as his future wife I will never get fat) we get to the lowest point in my day...

Mid medical chat, I glance down at my chewed and cracked manicure and desperately start looking around for a drawer to shove my fingers in. But then I remember they're attached to my mother f*cking hands. Mid panic I glance at myself in the mirrored paper napkin dispencer and see that I have massive amounts of mascara under my eyes, it looked as if I'd consulted Ozzy Osbourne at Sephora (thanks for the heads up Mom)..

Not even fully paying attention to what Doc Hottie is saying I hear something about my knees...
Doc walks over... Tells me to lay down and put my knees up (I liked where this was going until I realized my mom was in the room and I remembered the purpose of my visit. boo)

Okay so what about kneeee.. OMG he has lifted up Old Navy yoga pants leg to bend my knees...Panic panic. RAZOR, SHAVE, PRICKLEY, ASHY, LEGS.. I may have passed out at this point... I mean my eyes were open and I was breathing and walking maybe talking even, but the humiliation was so great the only thing I was consciously doing was trying not to let drool come out the side of my mouth, I couldn't bare the thought of Doc Hottie thinking I was a cocker spaniel AND had mild retardation.

All I wanted to do was make a clean getaway and maybe Dr. McHottie would forget about me. Veterinarians have seen less hairy legs than Doc Hottie had to feel today. BUT NO.... As we are paying my copayment my mother tells the nurses.. "Oh she will be back for physical therapy on Monday, and I'm sure she will have the right date and time because Dr. McHottie sure is easy on the eyes." OH. MY. GOD. Retard drool all down left side of face...

Shaving is for sex. Since I don't have sex on the regular I don't find it necessary to shave on the regular. However, if I had known that a possible sexual encounter would have been on the table (or should I say examination table) I would have shaved my gosh-damned legs.

Fact: Get a razor and check a mirror before all first visits. :(

So how was your day DJ??