You want to look at what... my lady bits?

One of the benefits of getting older is having to go for medical tests to make sure that your lady bits aren't about to fall apart. I recently had to have an exam done at a hospital downtown which happened to be a teaching facility. I was asked if I would mind if a trainee could sit in on the exam and perhaps examine me. I said sure I don't mind, everyone's got to start somewhere.

I had just changed in the flattering blue paper gown and assumed the position (ladies you know what I mean) ... when there was a knock on the door. I looked up and God walked in... at least that's what I thought. The doctor in training - Dr. McChocolate was the most beautiful black man I'd seen in a while - quite frankly he was gorgeous. I sat up and stared at him absolutely dumbfounded.

He had to have been in his late 20's early 30's, 6ft 2in and not a spare ounce of fat on his 220lb muscled frame. He had a closely cropped fade, small goatee, big strong hands, white teeth, big strong hands, chocolate brown eyes, a killer smile, big strong hands and my god he smelled good. I looked at my doctor and said - ya gotta be kidding. He kinda looked like Henry Simmons (left).

You really want me to expose my gorgeous but rubinesque body to this beautiful man - under the harsh, unforgiving fluorescent light where there was absolutely no place for the me or the cellulite to hide. I needed soft lighting, an airbrushing machine and a couple bottles of wine.

My doctor asked if I would mind if McChocolate did my workup -between you and me - I was already worked up. As I was prepped for the procedure, the nurse dimmed the lights (she musta read my mind), I lay back and she turned on the spotlight on my vajay-jay. As the doctors leaned in closer... McChocolate said we're about to put the speculum in and you may feel a slight pressure as I begin the procedure.

For 6 minutes McChocolate and the doctor poked, prodded and apologized as they went about their business in my business. As I lay there on the table I wondered how appropriate would it be to ask the nurse to take a picture of McChocolate and me in my blue paper gown...

The things we do for love...

I was planning on writing tonight about Channeling your Inner Sexpot but I just had to stop, hit backspace, backspace, delete, delete, delete. (Sorry Mags)

Tonight I'm trying to watch "More to Love" which has been billed as the new dating competition show from Mike Fleiss ("The Bachelor"), and it follows one regular guy's search for love among a group of real women determined to prove that love comes in all shapes and sizes.

People I gotta tell ya people I didn't think it was possible but reality tv has hit an all time low.
WTF? Now plus sized girls need help finding love too. Thanks but no thanks - I've tried to find one redeeming quality in this show but there is none.

One plus size guy and 20 plus sized girl DOES NOT good reality tv make. Between the crying and the protestations of love for a guy that they've met twice, someone please pull the trigger and put me out of my misery.

I mean I love the fact that they're trying to show us curvy girls in a good light but hellooooo where'd they get these losers from? And the guy... holy crap what an insanely dull and boring loser! I even forced Mr. C to look at it with me and at the end he turned to me and said...

Now what're you gonna to do to give me back that hour of my life....