Storytime, faggots.
I sat in the waiting room with my mom. A familiar room, but today it felt foreign, different, strange in ways that was hard to explain. It could be that I was simply anxious about the exam. A physical was required by the school to play any sports and I really wanted to try out for the basketball team. I knew everything would be fine, but post puberty meant that there was more to this than the simple heart rate and blood pressure.
“It will be fine honey.” My mom made every attempt to ease my nerves. Her motherly voice was hollow, offering little to find comfort in. I knew she was trying her best, but behind the words, she too remembered her experience.
“I know, just not sure I want Dr. Andrews seeing me in that way.” I was comfortable with my doctor, but had never revealed much of myself to a guy before. Sure he had depressed my tongue, pressed the stethoscope against my chest, but my mom had done me the disservice of explaining the vaginal and breast exam portions. It was meant to provide fair warning, but it generated a sense of embarrassment.
“Kimi?” The nurse called out. “If you could come with me?” It was Joanna, it was her familiar voice; at least starting the appointment as usual served to relax the nerves.