...Or how I stopped worrying about the size of my penis and learned to love.
I arrived at the clinic about ten minutes early, I hate being late for appointments. I checked in at reception and then took a seat in the waiting area. I felt very uncomfortable, I'm not keen on doctors especially when it's to discuss below the belt problems. I hoped that this Dr Strangelove was going to be friendly, an odd name but I pictured him as a standard doctor type, about 50 with grey hair and glasses.
I was sitting there staring into space when a women with a white doctors smock on, came down the corridor and called my name, telling me to follow her. She looked pretty good to my eyes, and her butt swayed nicely as she led the way to the doctors office. I was surprised the doctor wasn’t in the room, until the 'nurse' went and sat behind the desk and faced me. On her collar was a name badge, 'Dr Strangelove'.
"Okay, Mr. Stark, how can I help?" she asked.
"Emmm," I said hesitantly, "I didn’t realise you were a female doctor."
"I'm sorry that you made a sexist assumption, but I assure you anything that you could discuss with a male doctor you can discuss with me. As you know this clinic specialises in sexual problems, I assume this is why you’re here. Now tell me what's wrong," she told me in a brisk fashion.
I bit the bullet, "Well doctor, I've been having these feelings lately…"
"What feelings exactly?" she asked.
"Well of inadequacy…" I said.
"Yes?"
I blurted it out, "I don't think my penis is big enough to please my girlfriend."
"What makes you think that?"
"She told me." I said bluntly.