This 500 word exercise called for the entire story to be made up of imperative commands. Example: Don't ask me why I chose this particular setting. Read. Enjoy.
Take off your leather coat and uncurl the long wool scarf from around your neck. Hang them both on the little hook attached to the examination room door. Remove your blouse, undershirt, and bra. Untie your shoes and slip them off, but leave your socks on because some chuckle head thought it would be a good idea to rev the A.C. up to frostbite levels, the floor is like ice, and it's not like the bastard will be examining your feet. Shimmy out of your jeans and panties. Chastise yourself for throwing on the first pair of granny panties you could find because you were running late to make the appointment. Fold each piece of clothing into a neat stack being careful to hide your bra and panties between your blouse, undershirt, and jeans. Realize what a stupid thing modesty is considering the circumstances. Set your clothes on the chair near the door with your purse, climb onto the examination table, rest your feet in the metal stirrups, and cover freezing naked body with the paper sheet the nurse gave you before she left the room.
Remember: This too shall pass.
Stare at the ceiling for what feels like an eternity. Wonder who's bright idea it was to scotch tape a poster up there, the one with the kitten hanging from a tree branch. Hang in there, it jovially commands of you. Go screw yourself, you want to say to it. You don't say it because it's just a stupid poster, an inanimate object, not worth the effort to get upset over, but mostly you don't say it because the doctor could walk in any minute and you already feel like a naked idiot with your feet stuck in the air.
Hang in there. Yeah, do that.
Wait. Stare at the ceiling for another eternity. Search the room for a clock and reach for your cell phone to check the time. Remember you are naked and mentally slap yourself. Curse yourself for leaving your phone in your pants pocket. Wait longer. Stare. Sigh. Debate if it would be worth the trouble of climbing off this stupid table to retrieve the thing because at least you could be playing solitaire while you wait or Twitter to the world that you're on a table with stirrups waiting for a guy to peek at your crotch. Mentally slap yourself again for even thinking of something so stupid. Quietly laugh to yourself because you just know someone out there is doing just that.
Make a note to check your e-mail when you get out of here. Think about the day ahead and all the errands you need to run. Don't think about what the doctor might find.
Stop worrying.
Wait some more. Drift off. Hear the knock at the door. Jolt awake. Wipe the drool from the corners of your mouth and feel a mixture of relief and dread as the doctor enters the room with the nurse. Answer all his questions as best as you can without getting distracted as he feels you up, searching for lumps that, hopefully, aren't there. Obey the doctor's command to wiggle your butt as close to the edge of the table as possible. Don't look in his direction. Don't look at the tray with all the horrifying instruments. Don't stare at that metal clamp thingy he is inserting between your legs. Don't look for your dignity and don't expect to find it until you leave this room...probably. Don't look at anything. Close your eyes and don't wiggle your butt away when you feel the pinch.
Breath in. Breath out. Pray for this to end. Be grateful you only need to go through this once a year.
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