I don’t even know why I thought that the boy shorts would “protect” me. I suppose they did a little protection in the front, but definitely not the back. He straight up pulled those bad boys down and checked out my bum. Awkward! He didn’t do that with my bra, which made my girls feel slightly insecure. Ha! Just kidding. I was stoked that I didn’t have to suffer through two separate humiliating incidences. I’ve thought of changing to a female doctor, but it’s kind of pointless since now I'm so freaking close to Dr. Dermatologist. That’s the same way I feel about my lady-parts doctor; there’s no point in finding another one because she knows me VERY well.
The visit itself is a head-to-toe check, or should I say "toe-to-head"? You get undressed, put on one of those silly paper gowns and lie down on your back. He starts at the feet, looks in between your toes and looks at your toe nails (remember – Melanoma can show up on the beds of your toenails). Then he works his way up your legs all the way up to your neck. Then you flip over to your stomach with your silly paper gown totally open in the back, which this is the exact moment I was thankful for the big-girl panties. He again starts at the feet working his way all the way to your neck, stopping by your bum for a quick cheek check. Finally, you sit up, he looks at your hands and fingernails then he dives straight into your hair. Note to self: next time do NOT wear your hair up again because you’ll have to take it down and go to work with a jacked up fro.
He actually spent the most time during the visit looking at a mole that I have on the base of my scalp while swimming through my hair. Made me nervous because I can’t see it! Now that I wrote that, that’s probably the issue he was having – he couldn’t see the damn thing either. Humm…. The second most amount of time was spent checking out the moles around my incision on my back. Everything is good to go, he has no concerns at this time. I’ve got another three months to go before surrendering to another round of physical shame. Joy.