“I bought some of those Benjamin Wa Balls, and I know you’re supposed to try stuff out before you leave the store to make sure it works. Now I can’t get them out,” she complains.
It's not until that moment I notice she is standing with her legs slightly spread like she was getting ready to take a dump on the floor.
“Did she just say Benjamin Wa Balls?” I whisper to Jim standing next to me.
“Seriously? That’s what you’re concerned with? She stuck a product up her vagina before she left the store. And was planning on putting it back if she didn’t like it,” Jim whispers back in a horrified voice. “I should never have touched anything in here.”
Jenny rocks back and forth from one foot to the other and shakes her hips a little in an effort to shake them loose I'm guessing.
“This Benjamin Wa guy should have come up with a better removal plan,” Jenny states.
“Jesus, will you stop calling them that? They're BEN WA BALLS,” Liz shouts. “And you’re not supposed to test the products out IN the store. That’s only for toys that require batteries and the clerk will put some batteries in to make sure the thing actually runs before you leave with it.”
“How the hell was I supposed to know any of this? And I thought that was just a nickname for them and they shortened it to fit on the packaging. I was using the formal name,” Jenny tells her as she continues to move her hips around in a giant circle like she's trying to hula hoop in slow motion.
We all just stand around staring at her while she does her weird mating ritual to get Benjamin’s balls loose. It's like a train wreck we can’t turn away from.
“I am never letting anyone use the bathroom in my shop. Ever,” Liz says under her breath.
“Ooooh, I think I got one loose!” Jenny exclaims.
“I totally love you right now!” Drew tells her.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Claire states, throwing her hand over her mouth and running for the exit.
19. Oops, I Did it Again!
After a week of being sick off and on, Carter forces me to go to the doctor. Other than throwing up a few times, I feel fine. I know he's making a big fuss over nothing. But regardless, I haven’t been to my doctor for anything other than my yearly pap test since Gavin was born. He's a general practitioner so he is Gavin’s doctor as well. With all the time I've spent in that office with my son and his check-ups, colds, shots, fevers, diaper rashes, and everything else under the sun, there is no need for me to go in there if it isn’t absolutely necessary. I’m the type of person who doesn’t go to the doctor unless I’m bleeding from the eyes or monkeys are flying out of my ass. I figure my heath and well being will be perfectly fine through osmosis just by walking into that place every couple of months with my son.
When I call my doctor and tell him my boyfriend is being mean and making me get a physical, his exact words are, “Claire, you know there’s more to you than your vagina. I’ve scheduled you for tomorrow.”
Whatever. What if my vagina is the best part? What do you have to say about that, Doctor Dick?
Actually, I really do love our doctor. I have never seen him wearing anything other than jeans and a t-shirt. He’s very down-to-earth and Gavin loves him. Plus, if I’m going to let a guy stick his hands up my snatch once a year, he better make me feel comfortable if he isn’t buying me dinner first.
I'm currently sitting on the exam table in a lovely ensemble of a paper shirt that opens in the front and a paper blanket the size of a newspaper that is supposed to fit around my ass. The room is a balmy fifty-two degrees, and I have been waiting forty-five minutes so far. Needless to say, I'm in a super mood by the time Dr. Williams finally shows up.
“Claire, how are you doing today?” he asks as he walks into the room with a nurse following close behind.
“Oh, I’m just super. Did you do something new with these gowns? They seem to have much more coverage,” I say sarcastically.
“Ah, Claire, you always say the nicest things,” he laughs as he takes a seat on his little stool with wheels and looks over my chart.
The nurse comes up next to me and takes my blood pressure and checks my pulse, reporting the numbers to Dr. Williams so he can notate them.
“Well, your BP is good and you don’t have a fever. When was your last menstrual cycle?”
I count backward through the weeks in my head and then stop and count again.
“Well, it was…I remember it was a Tuesday because that’s the day my supplies are delivered, and I was in the middle of signing for the white chocolate when I felt cramps,” I ramble, trying not to panic.
One, two, three, four, carry the seven, multiply by eight…FUCK!
I glance over at the calendar hanging on the wall. This month shows a black and white cat with wide eyes and both of its paws covering its mouth as if to say 'Oops!'.