If you felt like you had dignity when you walked in, don’t worry. That’ll change soon. You walk into a room filled with pregnant women, a young couple crying, and magazines covered with infant children that have headlines like “Parenting for the Modern Woman” or “Your Life is Now Over Because You Didn’t Use a Condom.” You have to fill out, like, 15 pages of paperwork that asks questions you wouldn’t even bring up with your imaginary therapist. Like, you don’t even use a pen anymore. So…
- “Do you drink alcohol?” Uh…
- “Do you smoke?” Like, when I’m sober?
- “Do you use illegal drugs?” Illegal in which states?
- “How many people have you had sexual intercourse with?” This month or…?
- “Do you ever have unprotected sex?” I mean, It’s not like it was my idea…
- The amount of lies I just told is a perfect example of why I’m a horrible person who doesn’t have nice things.
- They finally call my name as I’m still debating the perfect number to write down for sex partners.
- I want to seem like a lady but also not a prude. So, like…seven? Twelve? The truth? None?
- WHAT DO YOU PEOPLE WANT FROM ME?
- You try drinking and dressing up like sexy cowboys and Indians and then tell me that you can resist a roll in the hay.
- Finally, a woman with the ultimate bitch face leads you back into the clinical smelling judgment trap.
- “Oh, no. I just peed–I totally don’t have to go.”
- Fuck. Can they detect alcohol in urine samples?
- If you test positive for drugs, what happens? Hypothetically.
- If I turn around on the scale, it’s like it didn’t happen.
- “I don’t care if it’s childish. I just ate a burrito. That adds 20 pounds.”
- Then, bitch face makes you sit down and asks you the same questions you just answered, but stares you into your eyes to try and figure out if you’re lying.
- It’s like she can see inside your soul.
- She knows everything.
- Here, put on this open gown that confirms that fact that you’ve lost all dignity.
- At least buy me dinner before you see me naked.
- It must be a shame tactic to make me open my legs and lie on a freezing cold table while a stranger peeks around.
- If you thought grocery store small talk was bad, try talking about your major with another person’s arm up your vagina.
- This giant, metal eyelash curler that I’m going to clamp your lady parts with won’t hurt at all.
- THIS IS WHY I DON’T TRUST PEOPLE.
- Now, let’s talk about your family while I grope you.
- While squeezing my nipples: “How’s your mom doing?”
- Yeah, they’ll run some STD tests on your vagina samples, but don’t worry. If you’re clean, they won’t call you.
- And you wonder why I lied about my sex number? You’re telling me not calling is good!
- I thought all the guys who didn’t call actually LIKED me.
- You have no one but yourself to blame for my scandalous ways, doc.
- And now, what? I just get dressed with lube dripping out of me and act like this never happened?
- You’ll call me, maybe?
- So, like, if I see you at a bar do we say hi? Do we avoid eye contact despite the fact that you’ve BEEN INSIDE ME?
- I’m literally never coming here again. Until I need a refill on my birth control. Which is actually why I’m here.
- Yeah. How does it feel? Who feels used now, huh? Don’t ever call me, ever. #ButReally