Quaint, but more then a little appalling

Tiff and I booked back to back Dr appointments in a after hours clinic this week. Me, to have an implanon birth control implant removed and another inserted, and Tiff to have her first inserted.

We were given three pages of forms to fill out for background health info, as we'd not been to this clinic before, and then the Dr saw me first. Dr was young- we disagree how young, but I say late 40's, Tiff thinks early 50's. Still, young, not foreign, and obviously, well educated. He was cheery and friendly and asked me rudimentary questions about allergies, and whether I smoked, then sent me to pharmacy next store to fill the script for the new implant.

While I was off, he saw Tiff. Since she did not already have an implant, he told her it was imperative she be certain she was not currently pregnant before insertion. When she agreed she was not, he asked her how she could be so certain. She then informed him she does not have sex with men. After a moments silence, he told her. "Well  then, that would make you a homosexual" and made a note in the computer for this. Then said "right- so you are single?" And Tiff informed him that no, in fact, the last girl he saw was her partner. He then grilled her on smoking, drugs and alcohol abuse before asking her why she wanted birth control in the first place. She justified this by telling him she wanted it because it regulates and reduces the menstrual cycle.

When I came back and she told me all this, I was both amused that he thought her being a homosexual made her well dogdey, and he had to ask her far more involved questions then me regarding substance abuse.  We had a moment in the waiting room of giggling because I pretended to be shocked by this revelation "What"?! You are homosexual? Why did you not tell me this? Sheesh!"   

But I was also shocked at how old fashioned his terminology and attitude seemed.

When I went back in to have my implant implanted, his attitude had done a 160. He was gruff and abrupt, and gone was the warmth. He was professional, and removed the old and implanted the new, but with no friendly banter whatsoever. He did ask me if I was  "Aware that my friend was not straight", and I laughed and said I was aware, as we were a couple, to which he only nodded.  I presume he was fact checking in case she was puling his leg? So I told him we preferred Gay/Lesbian, or even Queer  to homosexual- which he made no response to. He did not, I noticed, make a note in my computer record that I too, was a homosexual. The plight of the Femme- no recognition, I tell ya!

His manner of treatment of Tiff also really got my goat because, had he bothered to read the three pages of background info- or asked us both the same questions, he'd have had a little eye opener. Tiff is a goody two shoes. I on the other hand, had info filled in about recreational drug use of several varieties.

He just never bothered to check, maybe he thinks it is something good little straight girls aren't into?


And so the search for a Dr in our new area continues!

Back in my day...

I'm 38. And I'm truly getting old. it is official-I'm now of the older generation.

I know this because yesterday I nearly assaulted two kids on the train, having to resist the urge to knock their two heads together.

Because they were stupid.

For more then thirty minutes I listened to to boys somewhere between 18 and 20, have a series of conversations, the usual banter, nothing awe- inspiring.

The conversation itself was not the issue.

My issue arose from the fact that whenever one dude said anything the other (and this worked in both directions) amusing, the other would SAY "lol". This happened many times over. I lost count in my rage.

You see, my issue stems from the fact that we, as primates, have developed a means of expressing mirth. it's called "laughter". (Or, in the milder cases, a "smile").

I've known the age thing was coming on for about a year now. My ex husbands girlfriend (whom I absolutely adore, by the way) is also much much younger(that's the way it goes, right?), and her vocabulary also makes me shudder, though I have never felt the urge to cause her harm in an effort to teach her proper diction! She will shorten words such as "totally" into "totes". I find such alterations jarring as they interrupt the flow of conversation for me, but I can get over it. I just keep telling myself that this is an evolution of the language and try not to think of it as devolution.

But to introduce as a word "lol" without any outward flicker of expression to accompany it?

is that where we are headed as a race? To the re-expression of body language. Mechanical beings without expression.

Ah well, without the presence of laugh lines, perhaps the next generation will retain their youth into their old age.

And I'm sure they will then find something equally as irritating about the youth of their day as well.

Maybe kids then will want to do something really perverse, like socialize in meatspace.

Going Commando

We do “casual Fridays” at my office. And with the summer weather now tapering off, and the days “cooling off” to the mere high 20’s (77-84F), I decided to drag some Jeans out of storage this morning. So I’m standing in my walk in closet, trying to be quiet as the girlthing is still asleep, wiggling in and out of jeans I have not worn in about a year trying to find a pair I like. I fell over only once, after getting a leg stuck, but even me crashing into shelving and tipping over in an ungainly heap on the hardwood did not rouse the gently snoring boobs in the bed.

Having settled on a pair that was comfy, I buggered off to work. After a 40 minute train journey into the city and having drunk enough coffee to wake up sufficiently, I step off the train onto a breezy train platform to realize I am not wearing any underwear. I went from “trying on for size” to breakfast in the kitchen having skipped the step of underwear.

Now, for years, underwear was optional for me. But for past year or so I’ve gotten back into the habit of wearing them every day. And apparently that’s where my comfort zone is now. Because I have now spent several hours since this breezy discover completely and utterly focussed on the lack of underwear inside my pants. I’m careful when bending to sit, avoiding bending or squatting, and generally imagining myself in a multitude of situations which might lend to my jeans splitting and my arse hanging out for the world to see.

Is this paranoia?

Or worse yet, the gift of premonition?

I only hope I make it through the day with my dignity intact