The Bare Facts
Two weeks. It’s been two weeks since I’ve been running. In that time I’ve made up for my lack of lower body work by working other parts of my body. Lifting Oreos, spoonfuls of Ben & Jerry’s, and candy corn has built my upper arms. And lower fl-abs. And hips. Yesterday I realized that I didn’t want seven months of work and 15 pounds lost to go to waist so I started running again.
In the weeks leading up to my knee injury, my passion for running had started to wane. I was more concerned about miles, pace, and whether my running shorts were giving me a wedgie that would look unflattering in the pictures at the finish line than about my feet pounding the pavement and the zen effect of emptying my mind of everything but breath and movement.
This injury has actually made me not just step back but step off the running track and reevaluate my goals. My goal was to get healthy. Check. My goal was to lose weight. Check. The marathon was incentive. It was not my goal. Although when we added the stay at a cute bed and breakfast the weekend of the marathon and the potential of the bright shiny medal when I crossed the finish line, running the marathon became the goal. And you know what these past two weeks have taught me? Fuck that! Yep, fuck that. I run because I’m a runner. While I do hope to complete a marathon someday, if I don’t, I am still Fan-fucking-tastic!
So, I ran this weekend. A measly mile. Just one mile. But I felt great. My knee felt great. I wanted to run more but I didn’t push it. My sports doctor said I could run three to five miles without causing any harm but my sports doctor is an asshat. Really, the bitch didn’t know what the fuck she was talking about. The visit did not begin well and I think that may have clouded her judgment. My appointment was for the midafternoon. I was working on my thesis which is OH MY GOD DUE IN THREE WEEKS when I realized that I must have slipped into a black hole, or fallen asleep at my desk, because one minute I was taking notes and the next, I had twenty minutes to get to my appointment.
There was no time to shower or shave my legs, which hadn’t seen the sharp edge of a Gillette since my bikini wax a few days earlier. Yes, I like to be as hairless as possible before getting my bikini wax. For some reason, I think the absence of hair on other parts of my body will somehow negate the horrifying effect of the Chewbacca growth sprouting from my hooha. Lisa has never commented on the silky smoothness of my legs but –what? Yes, Lisa and I are on a first name basis. Look, if someone is applying hot wax to your nether regions and pulling your hair out by the roots, you are either on a first name basis or you have a gimp mask and a safe word if things get too out of hand. Anyway, Lisa has never commented on the silky smoothness of my legs but I know she must talk to her co-workers once I leave. I can just imagine them gathering around the water cooler with their plastic cups sticking to the wax remnants on their hands as she says, “You know that Dingo, she gets as hairy as a Tribble if she misses an appointment but DAMN if she doesn’t have the smoothest silkiest legs that have ever brushed against my forearms!”
Anyway, there was no time for hair removal as I dashed out the door. Twenty minutes later I’m in the exam room waiting for Dr. Asshat to enter wondering if I had time to use the sharp, unidentifiable medical utensil on the counter to scrape my legs to baby smoothness. As I was pondering the benefits of using foaming hand sanitizer as shaving lotion, one of the assistants came in and placed a folder and a tiny blue square of tissues on the counter. She told me to take off my clothes from the waist down, leaving my underwear on. Um, remember when I said that I hadn’t shaved in a few days? Yeah, I’ve been so busy that 5 minutes to shave was a luxury I didn’t have. Hours to do laundry? Fuggedabouddit! Yes, that’s right. No laundry. No underwear. Basically, I was to strip down to my t-shirt and the skin god gave me. With dry, scaly, stubbly legs. Shoot. Me. Now.
Let’s recap, shall we? No shower. No shaving. No underwear. It couldn’t get any worse right? Oh, come on now, folks! This is Dingo we’re talking about! Of course it could get worse!
As I knelt to take off my shoes I realized that I had worn my old running shoes. The shoes I had already logged 250+ miles in. To say that they stunk would be too kind. They reeked. They smelled like dead things. Dingo Girl has tried to bury them more than once and Mr. Dingo refuses to be in the same room with them. But they are soooo comfortable I can’t get rid of them. Anyway, when I removed the Shoes of Death a mushroom cloud of funk filled the room. I frantically tried to open the one window in the room but it was painted shut – a fact that would soon be remedied as the paint started to curl and peel when the Aroma of Death hit it. But I didn’t have time! I could hear Dr. Asshat outside the exam room door flipping through my charts. Her hand was on the door knob. Quick! Quick! Do something!
I didn’t want her to come in as I was standing bare assed by the window so I leapt onto the exam table with a loud crash as she walked into the room. I don’t know what hit her first. The sight of my bare ass sliding across the table or the Aroma of Death. She had a look of terror on her face and I think the only thing that kept her in the room was her Hypocratic Oath, which at the time sounded something like “DAY-UM!” I sat hunched over in a C-shape on the table trying to hide my girl bits when Dr. Asshat politely demanded asked if I would like a robe. “Yes! Yes! Thank you!” I responded with relief. Then she went over to the counter and handed me the tiny 5 inch square of tissue the assistant had laid on the counter. Turns out, it was not a pile of tissue but a pair of nylonish boxer shorts. How was I to know that minuscule piece of fabric was for me to wear?! I put on the shorts and the consultation began.
With that inauspicious opening, did the exam really have a chance in hell of going well? No. No, it didn’t. I won’t go into detail about it but let’s just say that Dr. Asshat earned her name. To be fair, I know that as soon as I left she was telling the rest of the office about me, Patient Bare Ass. I’m supposed to go back for a follow-up visit in three weeks but I think I’m going to make an appointment with someone else.
Posted on Monday, October 13, 2008 at 12:09 PM.
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Comments & Trackbacks
HOLY COW!!!! That was HYSTERICAL! Thank you, thank you, thank you!! I NEEDED a good laugh after the stress-fest I’ve been living lately....and as usual, there’s Dingo to supply it for me!
What a gal!
wow, thank you for making my Monday...this was hilarious. i’m glad that you also find lifting candy corns is a good workout. i’ve got to stop just tossing them back in to get more toned biceps.
O.M.G. I did not need the mental image, I really didn’t. Really. Yet-the laughter AT the mental image is just too delicious, so it’s like a wonderful catch-22. Eeeeew, hahahahah, eeeewwww...glad to hear you are running for you again. And why can’t you still go stay in the B&B;?
At least you’d just had a bikini wax - so maybe the same way that your smooth legs balance out your hip-to-hipper at the wax salon, your smooth hoohaa will balance out your hairy legs at the doctor’s office.
I think I’d like to invent a new sign for restaurants that reads “No shower. No shaving. No underwear. No service.”
Hope you recovered from this trauma ok. And good for you for logging a mile! Marathon schmarathon. 
I am usually not a LOL type of girl, but, to quote Dr. Asshat, DAY-UM! Too funny. I’ve been caught panty-less in many a situation, due to a combination of laundry laziness and Ernie’s hunger for underwear.
Oh, you definitely shouldn’t make an appointment with anyone else. After all, Dr. Asshat has seen it all now already. If you see a new doctor and the same thing occurs again, that’ll be two physicians with whom you have a reputation. Besides, you’ve mooned your doctor, so you can always take pride in that.
Glad the knee is feeling better. I still think I’ll take a pass on the whole running thing, though…
I KNEW those damn bikini waxers sat around and talked about me! Thank you for clearing that up!! Really, if I did that all day, I would certainly have a word or two to say after a few women left. Can you imagine if your waxer had a blog???
at last something good about country mud...we can quietly sprout hair and no-one will ever know
Made me laugh out loud at work. I’m pretty sure the guy in the office I share a wall with thinks I’m crazy. I’m okay with that though. He listens to very strange music.
Anywho, I’m glad you’re starting to run again. You sound happy (other than having your hair ripped out in a very sensitive area...omg...ow...) and I’m glad.
OMG. Why is it you’re always making me OMG?
You are a runner and ought to run for any reason you choose. Right. On.
There were so many things I loved about this post! But my absolute favorite? Having to look twice to see if the funky green miasma was coming from the shoes or Chewie’s nether regions. Classic!
Holy Crap, you’d be fun to hang out with!
Mr. P had a pair of those shorts given to him for an MRI.......and you know what? HE KEPT THEM and wore them around the house. I’m nearly POSITIVE they are downstairs in his closet somewhere.
They don’t offer me those at my Dr. They usually have to go to the supply closet for a ‘larger’ size gown........it’s embarassing.
I am so chicken. I can wax the brows, but as a true 80’s girl, I don’t see the need for waxing out my pubes by the root......that makes my throat close just thinking about it. I just let it all GROW, BABY, GROW.......
Ms H — You know what’s good for stress relief? A bikini wax. It makes you forget about everything else.
Cupcakes and Cashmere — If I’m feeling really pumped, I’ll lift those marshmallow pumpkins. Yum!!
Kori — My life is often a train wreck. Look! Don’t Look! Look! Don’t look!
Mel Heth — I’m hoping that the confusing mix of smooth versus not smooth confused her and she didn’t notice my bare ass.
saratogajean — Ernie is setting you up for disaster.
GeekHiker — You know, you’re right. There are many people who would love to give their docs the finger. Hell, I gave my doctor the MOON!
thecoconutdiaries — I had a waxer who would tell me all kinds of stuff about her other clients but she swore that she never talked about me to anyone else. Uh huh, sure.
rosie — Ah ha! Now we know, Rosie! Your secret’s out!
Rachel — I am happy. Happy and hairless.
justrun — Running is so much more enjoyable this way. Thanks for all your encouragement and support!
Shania — The shoes! It was coming from the shoes!
Shelly — He kept them? Um, Shelly, they are just not that comfy. Are you sure he didn’t just forget his own that day?
Rub those shoes on your knees. The smell will keep the pain away.
Reading this actually makes me feel okay about our mouse problems. It could be worse and all. 
Ree — I never thought of that! The ol’ stink cure. Sometimes the old solutions are the best.
Marjolein — Hey! Are you saying that having mice is better than stinky shoes and a bare ass?
and yet you’re somehow allowed to educate the minds of today’s youth - haha. love ya dingo - i needed a good laugh.
OMG, they take pictures at the finish line? So now I have to worry about my hair on Sunday? It isn’t enough that my running companion is 22 years old?
Also, I’m puzzled that you are required to get nekked for a knee injury...where exactly ARE your knees?
blakspring — And we wonder why education is going to hell in a handbasket, right?
Tress — Yep, there are pictures along the course and at the finish line. Smile pretty! And good luck!
It is such a relief that I am not the only one that gets into these insane situations. My dad always tells me it’s because I don’t use my head enough, but Dingo’s smart so obviously it’s just bad luck.
“Happy and Hairless” sounds like some sort of really bad emo band.
Your blog photos are always SO entertaining. Speaking of hairiness… I have some armpit hair to take care of…
I don’t know what’s better in this one--the actual writing or the totally hilarious photoshopping!
Megkathleen — Yep, just chalk it up to bad luck. Bad timing. Bad juju. Whatevs. Bad things can happen to good people.
Rachel — And believe me, if I had an emo band, it would be a BAD emo band.
Talina — I’m sure this post sent everyone running for a razor.
stealthnerd — You’re lucky I haven’t figured out a way to do scratch ‘n sniff or smell-o-vision.
Oh my god.
I’m laughing at work again!
They have a strict policy against that.
I’m going to get fired all because of your smelly sneakers and your naked ass.
Would you be too terribly offended if I said that was the funniest thing I’ve heard in a long time. Glad to know though that I’m not the only one who tries to get as hairless as possible before a docs. appt.
That’s too stinking funny! Pun intended. And here I thought I was the weirdo, getting into these predicaments. I’ll think of you fondly next time I get into one of these situations. There’s no doubt I will.
The image of you leaping, bare-assed, onto the exam table while frantically waving the shoe smell away had me laughing all morning.
Crissy — No laughing at work? Do you work in a library or something?
Tara R. — Just make sure you wear you underwear. Hairless if fine. Underwearless is not.
Jenny — The next time you get into one of these predicaments you need to blog about it. Things seem to run way too smoothly over there at Fox Hollow.
Nancypearlwannabe — It makes you appreciate the fact that I showed up for our lunch fully clothed and wearing appropriate footwear, doesn’t it?
I would love to say from a medical point of view that Dr.Asshat was not talking about you once you left. Patient privacy.. blah blah blah and all that bs, but I’ll almost guarantee she was talking it up. Thats okay because Doctors can tend to be egotistical regardless if their patient’s ass is hanging out in the open or not. The good thing to remember is that there is always a more embarassing story out there. So I am sure at this very moment someone is doing something way worse in her office. Did she even suggest physical therapy? Those are the real magic workers. I think even for me, marathon training is a reason to become healthy and if in the end I don’t actually run a marathon, so what? Its all about the journey baby! And of course the hilarious stories that we get to read along the way.
Ok ok I posted! I think it’s a pretty good one too.
I think you should have socked Dr. Asshat in the nose.
I can’t believe this, I just left a long ass comment and then I must have hit the captcha wrong and it erased it ALL. Good grief! Anyway, I was talking something about knowing how if feels to have stinky shoes and understanding your goal for the marathon. I have that myself, although I have to stop pressuring myself so much about it.
Also, I want to pass on a little award to your fabulous blog so come on by http://www.zooklight.com.
Gosh, I hope it works this time...pressing submit…
Katie — She suggested physical therapy after she ruled out MS, nerve damage in my back, hypochondria, etc. I went to the physical therapy place but it smelled like old people and pee so I left.
MsCatalysta — About damn time! After being assaulted by the Aroma of Death, I think her nose was immune from any further damage.
Melinda — Thanks for the award Melinda! I’m going to pop on over to take a look at it right now!
You ever wonder what these doctors write on THEIR blogs?
Giggle. I’ve been in a similar position, although I haven’t dived behind anything! I once had no tissue gown to get into and sat there, nekkid, until an unflappable nurse ehemed and handed me one. Ain’t no dignity in those exam rooms, eh?
Oh, Dingo, how I love you! You are so damn funny. Your story reminds me of a time when I went commando to a doc-in-the-box type of place when I was visiting a friend out of town and found myself plagued by a sinus infection on my second day there. I expected to be prescribed an antibiotic and sent along my merry way, but instead they gave me a steroid shot in the ass. Oh, um, okay. I should warn you, though, that I have no underwear on under this skirt. Ugh.
I’m glad you are back into the running and feeling good about everything, and I will be thinking of you finishing your thesis over the next few weeks! Also, one of these days (perhaps today!) I will respond to your email.
Oh my goodness. I just snarfed a bit of hot apple cider. That shit hurt. But it was worth it. I have had so many episodes like this. I mean, why do they make you wait so long? Just when you think it’s safe to get your naked ass off the table and go grab a magazine....that’s when they decide to make their entrance. The stinky shoes, LMAO.
This is horrifying and so my goodness hilarious at the same time!
O’Mama — Maybe we should have a contest for the most embarrassing bare assed nekked doctors’ office story!
Lara — I think they just wanted to look at your hiney. Really? Who gives shots in the hiney anymore?
jane — They are making their entrance as you are showing them your exit, huh?
k8 — Hi, k8! The only thing that saved me from complete and utter humiliation is that with all the running I’ve done I KNOW my ass looked good!
*snort*
You cracked my shit up woman. I thought that sorta thing only happened to me.
Oh and PLEASE tell me you didn’t go commando in jeans. Ouch.
YAY! For the first time in like EVA your blog has let me comment. Awesome. Must be cause I just shaved my legs.
Kelley — Oh no! I didn’t know you were having trouble leaving comments. It must’ve been that hair catcher filter I put on last week. All fixed now. You can comment in all your hairy legged glory. Commando in jeans? Um, yeah. But they were loose fitting jeans!
Damn if I can’t think of anything to say...other than as always, really enjoyed the post!