A Self-Depreciating MeMe

Since Bill has been MIA, a niche has opened in the blogosphere. I don’t really want Bill’s niche, but I do have a contribution to make…

I went to the doctor this morning. (Jeez, I sound like Bill already!) During the last several weeks (this week excluded, of course), I’ve been having some issues that are typically associated with prostate problems. I’m only 35 so it’s a bit early to be worried about prostate cancer, but cancer is strong in my family history it’s not something I want to trifle with.

My doc is quite cool and I’m not normally embarrassed or reluctant to discuss my health and ask questions. Even concerning things that most men wouldn’t want to discuss with a woman. (My doc is a woman.) Except for this. Let’s just say I’m not a big fan of the rubber glove.

Standing there with my shorts around my ankles, I realized that there is an upside to having a lady doctor. She’s small, and she has small hands and hence small fingers – all of which is definitely a bonus as she’s snapping on ‘the glove.’ So, I bend over, and she, well you know what she does, and then she says; “Wow, you’re small!” Now, despite the fact that I’m in the process of being digitally violated by a woman who hasn't even bought me a drink, it occurs to me at that very moment that this is the one and only time in any mans life when he would actually be relieved and/or even happy to hear a woman tell him that "he’s small" while his pants are around his ankles.

On the way back to the office I was driving by a big discount clothing store and decided to stop in for a quick look. I wouldn’t normally shop there as the clothes aren’t really all that and if they are then they are normally too picked over to yield much in the way of bargains. But in this case I’m on a special mission. GF and I have been invited to a “Pimp’n Ho Down” on Halloween and we’re really looking forward to it. I’ve already found a suit (it needs some mods – lots’s of leopard skin!) and an awesome Fedora (purple no less), but I still need some wicked loud shoes and a pink or purple faux silk rufflely shirt. And bling. Lots and lots of bling.

I didn’t find anything to go with my pimp suit, but I did happen to find a really cool and comfortable pair of casual shoes (Dr. Martens no less) for $30. So I bought them.

On the way out of the store I realized that I’ve just spent the morning playing hooky from work in order to be violated in the most unnatural way, and then go shoe shopping. Shoe shopping for crying out loud. And that left me with just one question. Am I still a man?