So yesterday I went to see the quacks at Wardenburg Health Center. My back has been hurting me for about four months, but I figured that it was worth putting up with the pain, as long as I didn’t have to go to the health center, which I hate. It was.
In any case, though, the doctor that was examining me ordered up X-rays, so I went to the X-ray room. I filled out some paperwork and then was led into a changing room. At that point, the lady said she’d let me alone to change. She gave me a hospital gown that was supposed to “close” in the back, and told me it was OK to wear my shirt and underwear, but that I should take off my pants and shoes. Then she left.
I undid my belt and dropped my pants, but when I looked down I couldn’t help but utter an “Oh dammit!” I don’t know how I’d not taken into account that I was going to the doctor when I dressed myself that morning, but there it was: my pair of Dr.-Seuss’-Cat-In-The-Hat plus hearts underwear that my mom gave me for Valentine’s Day around a decade ago! To make things worse, I was also wearing mid-calf length black socks with a gold toe, which nicely complimented my facial stubble which hadn’t been tended to in a few weeks. Ugh.
Anyhow, I was able to tie the gown and pull it together in the back, and I took off the socks and smacked around in my now-sweaty bare feet, which at least considerably reduced the chance I’d be mistaken for a sex offender. Still, I was not so hot. At least the lady running the X-ray had an eastern European accent, so if she did happen to notice my drawers, they might have actually been tasteful and classy compared to some of the Eurotrash man panties that most European guys wear…
Sitzman
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