A lesson learned the hard way

Today, while examining the merchandise at a sex shop, my finger suddenly began to itch and develop tiny blisters. "Oh no!" I thought, "I have developed finger herpes because I stuck my finger inside of the sample 'real-flesh' mouth that was boxed in with Virtual Veronica in order to determine whether or not it really did feel like real flesh." 

When I wandered over to the cock ring section and showed my sister the finger in question, she berated me. "What did you expect?" she asked. "You should really know better than to stick your finger into something at a sex shop." Though I was loathe to admit it, she had a point. 

From this day forth, I, Megan, will do my best not to stick any of my fingers into tiny mouths made of life-like synthetic materials while in establishments that sell merchandise that is intended to be ejaculated on, in or around. 

Nearly two weeks ago, I underwent my fourth ultrasound to date; at least, I think it was my fourth.

I arrived at my appointment prepared. I had learned from my previous experiences and had ensured that I had gulped down well over the recommended litre of water. I rolled in to the radiology department 15 minutes early and brought a book to help pass the time before my name was called. What I had failed to consider was that it would be incredibly difficult to pay attention to anything other than my obscenely full bladder. In the twenty minutes I sat in the waiting room, I crossed and uncrossed my legs in an attempt to forget about the force of nature my bladder was waiting to unleash. 

When I finally was called into the back room (I am referring to it as the 'back room' instead of the 'exam room' because 'back room' sounds so ominous), I made small talk with the technician. I told her about my life altering work: selling jewellery at a jewellery store. I silently congratulated myself at a fairly successful round of small talk. "This ultrasound is going pretty well." I thought to myself. 

That, naturally, is when it happened. The technician asked me a question. "How to you feel about a transvaginal ultrasound." she said. 

How do I feel? About a transvaginal ultrasound? I will tell you, ultrasound technician, how I feel about a transvaginal ultrasound; I feel the same way about a transvaginal ultrasound as I do about anything that starts with "trans" and involves sticking a man-made foreign object up into my vagina. 

But instead of repeating one of the many responses that were running through my head, I opted to keep it simple. "I do not feel good about transvaginal ultrasounds." I told the technician.