Apparently, It's Time for Some Girl Talk.

Warning: The following material contains sensitive information for women only. If you're a man and have chosen to stay and read on, don't say I didn't warn you.

I hesitated to even write this post, but you know, I've decided this material is totally blog worthy. We're among friends here in the blogosphere, and while I generally don't discuss female "things," I felt it was time for us to get to know each other better. (Plus, I hopped over to my sister's blog and read a similar post, and I felt less alone in my angst.) Thanks, sis!

My mother is reading right now, clutching the sides of her chair wondering what on earth her daughter is going to broadcast to the world. Don't worry, mom. It's not going to be like those times growing up when we would sit around the breakfast table on Sunday morning and I would ask questions about the birds and the bees. And cry.

Oh no, this is just going to be a simple commentary all you women out there will appreciate.

So.

Yesterday I paid a visit to my friendly neighborhood doctor. I like this man. He always looks me in the eye, warmly smiles and shakes my hand when I come in for a visit, and listens to my concerns. He asks about the boys, we chat about his family. I'm comfortable with him (as comfortable, I suppose, as you can be with your gynecologist). I'm especially grateful that he's still willing to be my doctor since I yelled at him in the delivery room while giving birth to my darling second-born son. I can't be positive, but I think I said something like this: "SO HELP ME...If you EVEN tell me that I'm STILL four centimeters, I'm gonna HURT you." Anyhoo. Moving on.

He listened intently to me as I read him the list of symptoms I've been experiencing, took me seriously when I told him I felt "out of whack", and gently smiled when I self-diagnosed myself.

Later, as I was staring at the ceiling, it dawned on me.

I DIDN'T SHAVE MY LEGS.

My mind began to race. My face flushed (could it be my hormones again???), and it was in that moment that I decided this was totally worth writing about.

Suddenly, I blurted out:

"Oh, Dr. _____, I am so sorry, but I forgot to shave my legs."

He laughed and said, "Yeah. I get that a lot!"

I should also add that I felt the need, with both the births of my babies, to announce this very thing to my doctors. We all had a good laugh in the delivery room. Perhaps you've now surmised that I don't often shave my legs. (This is the part of the story where you learn something new about me.) Let me just remind you that the temps are still hovering in the forties and fifties. It's not exactly shorts weather. So, to be clear, it's not that I don't WANT to shave or choose NOT to shave, it's just that when I only have a specific window of time to take my coveted daily shower, I don't always take the time to shave. I know. T.M.I. I am the queen of it. (Mom, are you still reading???)

Anyways. Back to Dr. WhatsHisName.

He was his usual gracious self, calmed my fears, and said he'd be in touch sometime today. My unshaven legs didn't seem to faze him one bit.

What a relief. I'm so glad I have such a nice doctor in times like these. *sniff*

Could somebody please pass me the kleenex? It seems I'm having another weepy moment.