The story below is true, only the names have been changed. If you have any comments please email.
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My name is Melinda. When I turned 18 my mother, Sharon, took me for my 1st "female doctor's visit". She took me to the clinic where she was a nurse. As I sat there nervously going through a two year old Newsweek, while waiting for the receptionist to call my name, all I could think of was, 'Good grief, I'm in great shape, why in the heck do I need to see a gynecologist anyway?'
It sounded just like a gun shot when it was my mom who was the one who poked her head out of the door leading to the examination rooms and said, "Honey, the doctor is ready for you now." On rubbery legs, I half stumbled through the door and followed mom down the hall to examination room three. "Honey," she said with a smile, "go in here and put on this gown, the doctor will be with you shortly."
I took the pale blue paper hospital gown and went inside to change. Standing behind a small screen in the corner, I shucked my clothes and donned the flimsy covering and hopped up on the table to wait for Doctor Webster. I shivered a little, and wondered why doctor's offices always seemed so darn cold, you'd think with the prices they charged they could spring for a little more heat.
Out in the hall, mom collared the doctor and said, "Room three is a new patient, and she's my daughter Melinda, just turned eighteen".
The door burst open and in strode a middle-aged man of about fifty, who extended his hand and said with a smile, "I'm Doctor Webster, and you must be Melinda, Sharon's daughter, I'm very happy to meet you."
All I could do is return a weak smile and while shaking the doctor's hand reply, "Thanks, it's nice to meet you, too."
"So," he asked, "what do we have here?" as he looked at my chart that was lying on the desk attached to a clipboard. "I see that this is your first exam," he said gently, "Well don't worry, I'm sure everything will go just fine, so let's get started."
He put down the clipboard and started checking the glands in my neck and working his way down, until casually sliding the gown from my shoulders and using his stethoscope to check my lungs. It felt very odd to be sitting in front of a strange man with my breasts exposed, but he seemed not to even notice them, even though my nipples had shriveled up as the cool air caressed them.
"Lungs sound free and clear," he announced while entering his findings on her chart, "and your glands don't have any swelling, so that's good. Okay," he went on, "now we'll check your breasts for lumps. Do you do regular self exams?"
"Uh, no," I said as I could feel the red rose in my cheeks, "I-I've never done one."
"Well you should do it at least once a month," he replied, "I'll have your mom show you exactly what to do after we're all finished with your exam, now lie back down please." I closed my eyes tightly anticipating the worst, but as Dr. Webster began kneading and touching my breasts, I began to relax a little as my nervousness began to wane. "You're a lucky girl," the doctor said absentmindedly as he carefully checked each boob and nipple, "you have very pretty breasts, but they're not so big that later on in life they would start to sag."
