Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Inside out, boy, you turn me...
A woman never forgets the day she first sees her rectum. Oh, sure, it's not the type of thing she'll reminisce about fondly with her mother on the sun porch over lemonade and ginger cookies. But, still, it is a memorable moment.
Today was my day to give a fine "how do you do" to my poop chute and I have to say it was pretty in pink versus the dark and craggy caverns I've always imagined my digestive system to be comprised of.
A symptom had made me worry something might be amiss in the great down under, but the doc assured me that all's well that ends well as he and I admired the sig camera's display of my undercarriage on a discreetly sized TV screen by the exam table. I'm relieved the deed is done and so glad I did it for peace of mind. Now I just wish I'd ask him to burn me a DVD of my posterior performance.
Katie Couric is gonna bust a button when she hears.