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Halloween always brings out the practical jokes and pranks in me, and almost every practical joke I do ends with a scream of "Fuckin' Karyn!!!" I’m a Sharpie virtuoso on the canvas of my passed-out friends, and I simply can’t resist the urge to hide your car, fuck up your computer or scare the shit out of you to tears if given the opportunity. What goes around really does come around, so here’s what happened when it came around on me. Occurred many years ago, but every time I visit home, this comes up and likely has been told to everyone who has ever come in contact with me.
My little sister Kaitlyn is a couple of years younger, and in high school was the cheerleader who partied probably too much. I caught her drunk with a bunch of MY friends racing their cars once and told my parents. They sentenced her to home restriction for 2 months, which comes out to about 4 years in social cheerleader time. Scorned woman? Pffftttt... hell hath no fury like a grounded cheerleader.
During my senior year, Mom scheduled my “yearly girl visit” with our female doctor for after school. She is a wonderful, thoughtful older doctor, and she’s also very “man-ny”. Not as in Ramirez or Pacquiao, more like if Herman Munster, Popeye Jones, and Rachel Dratch all chipped in on one baby. I race home from volleyball practice to see my sister and her pony-tailed, skirted minions making school spirit posters and get a chorus of “You suck Kar”, “We SO hate you”, “You are like the worst sister EVER” from the bobble-heads. Their thank you getting Katie grounded. Expected, so I run upstairs and shower.
In the face of a killer Indiana tornado, my Mom would rather see me die in clean panties than survive in marginally dirty ones. I grew up with her laying out my underwear literally every day, every event, and every appointment. Rarely saw any pair hit double digits worn, as she rotated panties like baseball players through Alyssa Milano. So it was again today; grabbed her brand-new white selection, got dressed and bolted downstairs. Mom drove, and I told her on the way over I wanted to be in there by myself this time. Something just isn't right with having your Mom there while the exam is going on, and I’m going to have to go alone eventually. She said “Fine”, and asked what Kaitlyn meant by yelling “Go get some girl!!!” on our way out. No clue, still angry?
Say our hellos, Mom waits outside, and I quickly change into that sheet masquerading as a gown. Questions, checkup stuff and during the breast exam, she laughs and says “Oh to be 17 again...” Hhhmmm, what the hell does that mean? Nervous laughter... Let it go and now we get to the part I hate worse than even musicians using auto-tune. Quickly jump into the stirrups, using the given sheet like the Berlin Wall to separate me from whatever is going on down there. She wheels her way on a little squeaky stool towards my Southern Belle and gets ready. I’m desperately trying to think of ANYTHING except what’s happening on that end of my Mason / Dixon line. And right when it’s about to start, I hear words that haunt me to this day:
“Ohhh, how cuuuuuute…”<<What the fuck? Oh my freakin' God… Did she say “How cute????”>>
Can feel my face blush and get really hot. Do I ask her what she said? Is that some normal doctor / baby-cannon greeting I missed last time? Is she expecting a response – mine doesn’t talk yet. Certainly I heard wrong... Well, I came back with my worthless standard answer for when I don’t understand someone, “Yeah, hehehehe...” So instead of blocking out ANYTHING happening down there, EVERYTHING just got magnified tenfold. Every touch, every pressure, every stroke, every movement – I’m dying and wondering if I’m getting some kinda special “how cute, how do like it without your Mom here” exam. Christ, I might be having my first girl / girl thing and not even know it. She’s mumbling as well, and I’m desperately trying to catch something audible to contextually hang “how cute” on… Maybe I’m just paranoid, can’t take compliments well, or am just plain adorable down there, but I doubt it. Those uncomfortable spread-eagle minutes there were like cheerleader hours.
“Ok, Karyn we’re done. I’ll be back in a second, feel free to get dressed.” she says, probably going for a cigarette. Hands down the fastest I’ve ever dressed myself and frankly felt like crying. When she returned I asked, “I thought I heard you say ‘How cute’ when we started the exam, weird huh?”
“I did honey, it was. I have never seen that before. I’m older and not that hip.”
“See what???” There's a question you really don't want your gyno to answer...
“The glitter…”
“Is that medical term?" I asked.
"No, honey - glitter."
"Are you saying G-L-I-D-D-E-R?"
“Karyn, you’re covered in glitter - T-T - like the sparkly stuff, go check."
“Glitter?” Tilt my head and nervously smile. There’s a race between crying and laughing beginning.
“Oh, you don’t know, do you honey? I thought it was something the kids are doing now. I was going to tell you a little really went a long way.”
Excused myself, found the restroom and sure enough I’m caked in glitter like a goddamn Gay Pride parade exploded in my panties. Fucking Kaitlyn!!! Find the waiting room and tell Mom what happened. She thinks it’s hilarious and tells me it’ll ruin her laundry, so "ditch the panties" - nice priorities. Clean up the best I could and find my doctor, my mother, the receptionist, a lab guy and several waiting women dying laughing. When they see me the laughter doubles, as it’s all over my face and hair now. I’m even laughing – what can you do?
Drive home, throw open front door, cheerleaders ironically shriek in unison as Kaitlyn scrambles over glittered posters for the stairs to the safety of her room screaming something about “All that glitters..." Am probably the most clean person in the world, yet was still finding glitter the following week around my cellar door. And still, not a reunion or trip home is ever complete without a glitter-britches, glitter-slit, sparkle-snatch, glitter-gash comment...
Surely this has happened to someone else?
Surely this has happened to someone else?
Kar
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