Five little letters

There are five letters that incite immediate anger in me. Yep. It's OBGYN. And why is that?

It mostly comes from just one statement. And that statement is, "relaaaaxxx." Excuse me? You want me to relax? You want me to lay my legs back as far as they'll go while you shove a big metal thing up my vagina and then pop it open like you're jacking up a car? AND THEN, after that, you are going to stick your damned fingers up there and push on my stomach? And maybe, if I'm really lucky, you'll also stick your finger up my a-hole and push on my stomach again. And all of this intimacy is done in about five minutes? Puh-lease. I'm not relaxing. There's just no way. So stop telling me to do it! Just do your business, get done, and let me get the hell out of there, where hopefully I get to wait an entire year before I have to let you touch my ovaries again.

I hate going to the freaking OBGYN. It makes me mad.