It was my annual exam, so I was naked and hiding behind a paper towel. When I was done being examined from the inside out, my doctor instructed me to dress and meet him in his office. I dressed, thinking that a shower in the gyno's examination room would be a smart addition.
We chatted in his office. He set up an appointment for a mammogram, and I left. I stopped by the reception desk to offer my suggestion of a shower - at the very least a bidet-type thingy that would help women feel just a tad bit fresh. She grinned. There's still no shower-esque area in the exam room. Obviously, my suggestion was not taken seriously.
I made my way out to my two-door Chevy Cavalier, (five-speed because I was that cool) and had just opened the door when the nurse came running out with a paper sack. "I think you left something," she said.
I looked at my shoulder and saw my designer bag. I had my shoes on. Nope. I had forgotten nothing.
"Are you sure?" she questioned, shaking the brown paper bag in front of me, "Check again. I found a bra in the changing area."
I laughed. Who would forget a bra? "Not mine," I giggled. Then for good measure, I put my hands on my boobs to double check that the cute, green-floral lacy bra was indeed on my body. With my hands on my chest, I felt nothing. No bra. Just boobage. My giggling gave way to sighing.
"Well," I said, "What do ya know? It is mine." I snagged my bagged bra and skipped second gear all together on my way home.
It was my first humiliating experience involving my floppy Bs. It was, however, not my last.
