Journal Entry – Age 23, May 1998

I’m 23 years old, a college student, working part time at a credit union and very single. After a bad break up (well, it was bad for me since I didn’t want to break up. I don’t think it was bad for him. He seemed to move on just fine!) I am kind of living my life on autopilot. I wake up, go to work, go to school and go home. I haven’t spent much time with friends because it’s hard for me to act happy and interested. My usual negative self deprecating humor has gotten even more…..morbid almost? Now that I think about it, my friends don’t ask to hang out with me much any more. Hell, I don’t blame them. I wouldn’t want to be around me either. Trisha is the only one around….because she is always around. She’s my ride or die. She doesn’t let me talk bad about myself….which is probably why I have been avoiding her too. It’s hard to believe I have anything good to offer anyone. And, as if life wasn’t already so BLAH, I had to go get my annual pap smear today. Oh joy!

I walked into the doctor’s office and checked in for my 2pm appointment. When I’m finally called in (at fucking 3:15….grrrr…) I go through the usual. You know, answering all the questions (How much do you weigh? Too much I think….Are you sexually active? Who me?!?! Sadly, no…) and then being told to undress and lay on the table. So I do as I am told and lay there staring up at the most horrendous poster stuck to the ceiling. It was definitely bought at a Scholastic Fair at the local middle school about 10 years ago. It’s a picture of a kitten hanging (falling really!) from a tree branch and written in large font across the bottom are the words: HANG IN THERE! Very cliché and very annoying. In any case, I feel like I am waiting there another hour all the while freezing to fucking death. I mean, it is beyond cold! And I have nothing but that ugly little thin gown covering the top half of my body. Finally the doctor walks in. Today I am being seen by Mr. Chu.

Hello Denise, he says. Hi there, I reply. How are you today? he offers. Cold, sad, irritated and so over the poster above me. Fine, I say. Ok, great. Now put your legs in these stir ups and scoot down to the end of the table. Scoot…scoot a little more…all the way to the end…(Honestly, who’s with me here when I say that I am always being told to keep scooting down the table. Like, come on man, I’m gonna scoot right off this bitch if you keep talking). Ok, there. Perfect. Has the nurse been in yet to set up? he says. I think a second, Nope. She hasn’t. Oh Lord, he gripes, I’m sorry. Hold on a second. (You mean HANG IN THERE?!?!) Let me see what’s keeping her. I’ll be right back.

Well, as you know, when a medical person tells you they will be right back, what that actually means is that they will be back in 20-30 minutes, which is what happened here. Now I am VERY cold, all exposed n stuff and the stupid kitten isn’t helping my attitude. It made me wonder about the photographer. Did he keep hanging that kitten onto the branch and wait for it to almost slip to it’s death to get just the right shot? Poor thing. She was probably thinking, I’m tired of hanging in there! Let me fall already. Anyway, back to my chilly misery…..the door finally opens. From my peripheral vision I could see the doctor walk in followed by a female nurse. The doc took up his post at the end of the table and I could hear the nurse getting the utensils (is that what you call them?) ready for the procedure. I hate this day. I hate it every year. It’s like having a metal bottle brush scrub out your completely stretched out over exposed insides. UGH. As the plan of action begins, I’m breathing deeply as instructed until I am startled by the most invasive shrieking voice. Denise?!?!? Denise Palmer?!?!? Is that you???, it says excitedly (too excitedly I might add). Ummmm…yes…..I’m Denise Palmer, I eek out. I try lifting my head, for the first time breaking the stare down I’m having with the kitten, but I can’t see who’s talking. I thought that was you! she says. Really? I think. Like, how??? You recognized my choo choo? I mean, I am pretty sure no woman besides my mom has seen my lady bits before. This is the point I begin to sweat. I mean, can you imagine??? Being naked, in this position – like a disabled frog – all spread eagle and someone recognizes you???? Just shoot me now. Oh, sorry, I can’t see you. I kinda recognize your voice though, I lie. It’s me! Megan Smith (fake name just in case anyone ever reads this), from high school. OH. MY. GOD. Are you fucking kidding me? A million thoughts race through my head – did I shave good enough? Does she still talk to David? He was so cute, maybe she can give him my numb….WAIT! This is THEE Megan Smith…she talks shit about everyone! Crap! She’s gonna freaking tell everyone what my ginny (G-eye-knee) looks like…and if I shaved good enough…..Oh, hey Megan! How are you? What’s new? I choke out. This is just my luck. I’m still with Juan. Can you believe that?? We had a baby last year, she says happily, are you married? Hahaha, no…not yet, I say. And at that, I shut up. Not only am I uncomfortable with the oddly normal way she can talk through such an awkward position (literally), but I do not feel like delving into my love life – or lack there of. The rest of the procedure is completely silent. As I get dressed we promise to keep in touch and maybe meet for lunch sometime, but you know, those niceties rarely pan out.

As I drove home I thought of how odd my life is and all these completely funny and unique experiences that always happen to me. I mean, who has EVER told you a story like that?? Me…it will be me……the weirdest shit happens to me. I should write a book.