Too Much Information? Probably.

The other day I went in for what I refer to as My Yearly Violation. Ladies, you know what I'm talking about - getting felt up by a near stranger, feet in the stirrups, being poked and prodded - you know. I've had two children and, therefore, pretty over the whole probing thing. I went to my old doctor, the one who delivered my second daughter, because he specializes in a certain procedure that I'm interested in pursuing. I have to mention that I used to have a huge crush on this man. I looooooved him! He's tall, dark and handsome, dresses impeccably, and is oh so sweet. So I was excited to go see him again and see how he's aged. Of course, he's still gorgeous - just a little grayer, but nonetheless gorgeous.
So we talked for a bit about why I was there, and then it was TIME. Time for the violation. Time to be uncomfortably probed. It's never comfortable, no matter how hard the doctor tries to relax you with the soothing voice, the mundane distractions about how old your kids are now, blah, blah, blah... Once I felt like a doctor was taking way too long and I told him if he took much longer, I was going to have to take him home to meet the folks. So this day with the gorgeous doctor was continuing with dread. And then, as if on cue, my cell phone rings. Yup, right as the doctor is staring somewhere between my legs and the nurse is trying to assist, we were all treated to a little snippet of none other than "Love Shack." Gotta love it.

Thank God I changed my ringer from "Let's Get It On."