You Must Be At Least 7 Inches Tall to Go On This Ride

Scene:  7 AM Monday morning, taking up space in the waiting room of a fertility clinic.  At least three other women sit by themselves, ostensibly waiting for a needle to be shoved in their arm and/or a magic dildo to be shoved up their vagina.  After 20 minutes of molding butt grooves into the chair, a heavyset, out-of-breath potential grandmother arrives with her skinny daughter and her Rod Blagojevich-haired son-in-law.


(tangible thud as Heavy Mom sits on a couch):  If there's a heartbeat, I wanna see (gasp) it. If all you're gonna do is lie in the stirrups, I don't wanna (gasp) see that.

(Skinny Daughter picks lint off of her sweater as Rod B. stares at the ceiling)

Heavy Mom: Oh (gasp) look! 'How He Wants To See You Naked'! Let's read (gasp) this together!
Skinny Daughter: Ha, ha... OK.
Ultrasound tech (to me):  Come on in.
(Rod B. watches my ass as I follow the nurse down the hall.)

Next up:  Riding the gynie table horse, feet in stirrups.  Some people get off on this.  Ick.

(Nurse covers the 7 inch ultrasound wand with a condom and lube)
Me:  Can I have the ribbed one this time?
(Nurse ignores me.)
Me:  I meant to ask you the last time, is the camera lens on the tip?
Nurse:  Pardon me while I stab you.  (No, really.)
Me:  That's not something anyone wants to hear.
Nurse:  Well, you do want to hear this:  Your lining is thick enough for transfer but embryology won't be ready for you until the end of the month.  So keep taking your estrogen pills.
Me:  But my cancer was practically made of estrogen.  Who do I need to bribe to get moved up on the schedule?
Nurse:  I don't know.  Not me, though.  (Withdraws wand, leaves the room)
Me (calls after her):  You never told me where the flash button is!