i don't want you all up in my business

tomorrow i've got my first appointment of death.
normal people call it the gynecologist.
death, i say.
horror.
violation.

i don't want to go, i so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so don't want to go.
i'm actually crying about it over here, and i fully expect to start crying when i'm there, too. i don't know how i'm going to hold it together on the way over.

now that it's about to happen, i actually hate that i've been cursed with being a woman.
imagine that.
i've actually been pretty proud to be female, yeah we've got a lot of shit to go through, but we've also got a power all our own.
but fuck this shit.
makes me wish i didn't have a vagina. makes me wish i were male.
why the fuck was i born with a body that would require me to endure such a fucking horrible invasion of said body.

i can't even fucking keep it together right now.
i don't want to do this.
like i'm actually considering if avoiding death by cancer is worth this. i honestly can't decide.
but, i'm going anyway, unless my mom cancels for me tomorrow morning.

you have to get naked.
no.
no no no.
i don't like that, i don't like being naked.
i don't mind it so much when having sex or doing other sexual things, but even just the other day i tried to be sexy for DE on skype but taking my shirt off broke me down because when you don't have the heat of the moment distracting you, there's nothing you can do but look and be looked at. and i hate being looked at. like let's say i'm gettin' it on with someone and we're all nude and stuff but i've got to get up to get something or some other reason, i'm profoundly uncomfortable. because past arm's reach, you're only looked at.
within arm's reach, a guy only wants to get their hands (or other) on your breasts. out of arm's reach, they're just shapeless blobs of fat that are attached to my chest. what can you do but scrutinize? they're uneven, weirdly shaped, off center... and they draw attention to the top of my body, where i've probably got red lines across my stomach from slouching and having fat rolls pop out.
and walking naked? everything fucking jiggles. good god, don't look at me.

and so i'll be topless with this stranger while she makes sure everything's healthy up top. trust me, it is. and with the doctor, there are definitely no distractions. everything is just looks and touching, examining.
wow, i just actually burst into tears at that thought. like, body-shaking sobs.
i don't want to be examined! not by someone who i know is sexually attracted to me, not by someone who i know will love me despite any flaws, and CERTAINLY not by an impartial stranger!


and the thought of the pelvic exam itself? oh god no. no no no no no.
that actually might be the worst part. the thought of someone looking where NO ONE SHOULD EVER LOOK. certainly not in a detached, clinical way!
someone i don't know just sticking things inside me, poking around. NO. you get the fuck out of there! i don't want someone all up in/on my business like that!

for fuck's sake, why is this happening to me.
i'm also finding it wildly triggering.
i'm looking at my body with a renewed feeling, a bitter and powerful mix of hatred and disgust.
like i resent my body for necessitating this violation.
and i have to go to dinner tomorrow!?
i just want to disappear. i want to make my body disappear.


and nobody seems to fucking get this.
i'm talking to DE, who of course i don't expect to understand the horrors of a gyno appointment, but he just isn't getting anything. he's like, it's just a doctor, it's not some kind of sexual predator, you're just uncomfortable with your body, blah blah.
i don't know how to explain myself better to him. he just hears irrationality.

but to have an impartial stranger examining my body parts in a clinical manner... it's all just wrong. every part of it. the impartial stranger, the examining, the clinical manner... not to say that i would want my doctor to be attracted to me in that way, just... this, as it is... it's a wrong thing.

and, having figured out why this is so upsetting to me, i then have to face the unfortunate implications that i apparently think it's wrong to look at a body in a non-sexual manner, and that my body is just for sex.
because that's not quite okay either...


and DE's response to my problem is "if it's only medical they won't be interested in your looks, and your looks are quite good in the first place."
...and that kind of shuts me up. i mean not that it makes me feel better, but i honestly don't have a response to that. i don't know what to say to that. because it's true, at least the part about them not being interested in my looks. so why do i care.
...wait, i do have a response. and it's that the very premise is wrong!
god fucking damn it.



i want to disappear.
why was i cursed with these parts?
i can't shake the feeling that i'm going to walk out of that office tomorrow feeling oh-so-violated.