The Randy Romance Novelist(62)
“You wouldn’t,” I sneered at her.
“Test me.”
She was one tough bitch.
“Fine, but just so you know, my friend said I’ve gained a little love chub since I’ve moved in with my boyfriend, but I’ve been going to the gym, letting the bike eat my crotch, despite how much it hurts.”
Yup, I knew it made no sense to a perfect stranger.
She ignored me and started moving the knob on the scale right past one twenty, on to one thirty, and stopping at one forty.
“One forty-one,” she announced to the entire office building.
“You shut your mouth,” I snapped at her, covering my lips right away from my outburst. “Oh dear, I’m sorry. I don’t know where that just came from.”
“Mmm-hmm,” she hummed at me, scanning me up and down. “You peed in a cup after you signed in?”
“Yes, and thank you to whoever opened the little pee cup door while I was still in there . . . I gave them a good show.”
“That was me.” I could see the look of satisfaction on her face. I grew more and more agitated with her by the second. She had to be related to Marta in some way, as well as the spin instructor. Nurse Scale Nazi and Marta, decorating and medicating vaginas one spread leg at a time. “Follow me,” she called out, moving toward one of the rooms.
I quickly gathered my discarded items and trotted after her, trying not to let the fact that I had gained sixteen pounds enter my mind. I could feel the tears start to threaten to fall over, but I breathed it out. I didn’t need Nurse Scale Nazi judging me anymore than she already was.
When I arrived in the room, she made me quickly change into an open-face Aztec-decorated gown behind a partition while she asked me questions.
“Are you a smoker?”
“No.”
“Do you drink?”
“Not really. My boyfriend does, though, but I guess second-hand alcohol consumption isn’t a thing,” I joked, laughing to myself.
Crickets on the other end.
“Sexually active?”
“Yes!” I practically screamed and then realized I said it loud enough for the entire top half of the building to hear me. “Sorry,” I apologized. “Fresh to the sex scene, three months in, and going strong.” I held up a solid fist of accomplishment. “I enjoy the sex, feels nice. Henry has a good-sized penis. Is that a question?” I popped my head past the partition and the nurse just shook her head at me. “I guess not, but if it was, he has a nice penis. No STDs or anything, if you are worried about that. We use protection.”
“Birth control?” she asked, continuing with her questions.
“Condoms. He uses the Legacy brand. Sometimes ribbed, not that he needs to use ribbed, he can get my engine revving with just an index finger and thumb.”
“Details aren’t necessary, Miss Bloom.”
“Oh, sorry.” I walked out into the room, wearing my robe and clinging it to my body so my boobs didn’t poke out the front. I sat on the table, weary of the stirrups I would be propping myself up in. “Didn’t know how much detail we had to get into. I don’t do any butt play, if that’s a question. I don’t think that’s something I want to explore, but I do enjoy trying new positions, and we have used toys. Oh, I got a bullet stuck in my vagina once, if you need to know that, and I did get my butthole bleached once, not really by my choice. And, of course, I had a bad waxing episode, but I did recently get vajazzled and that was a real delight, except for the fact that one of the gems got stuck in Henry’s pee hole. He had to jump up and down to get it out. What a sight that was.”
I smiled at the nurse, who was staring at me, dumbfounded. Without any emotion or acknowledgment of my sexual history, she asked, “Last period?”
“Oh, that was . . .” I paused, trying to think of the last time I menstruated. “Huh, I guess . . .” I counted on my fingers, trying to recall the last time I’d used a box of tampons, but nothing was coming to mind. “I guess it’s been a while.” I shrugged off my answer. “If you’re taking notes, I would like to talk to the doctor about being allergic to my boyfriend’s penis, because we’ve had a lot of sex, and I’m kind of afraid our private parts don’t mingle well. My vagina has felt very heavy lately, like it was stung by a bee or something.”
She ignored me and asked again, “When was your last period?”
Taken aback by her attitude, I said, “I told you, a bit ago. I don’t quite remember.”
“Last month?”
I thought about last month and shook my head.
“Two months ago?”
Two months ago, Henry and I were on a doggy style kick, almost every single day. I shook my head no.
“Three months?”
I laughed. “Gosh, three months seems so long ago. Three months without a period, ha you would think I would be . . .”
The words died on my tongue as realization set in.
Holy. Fuck.
Yes, I said the F word.
“Mmm-hmm. The doctor will be right with you.”
She walked out of the room, putting my chart in the file holder hanging on the back of the door and closed it, a loud click ringing through the silent room.
There was no way.
Quickly, I spread my legs and lowered my head, getting a good look at my vagina. Did vaginas morph into baskets when they were hiding something inside? Holding everything together?