The Needy Wives Club
Prologue
I was late. And the thing is, I was NEVER late. Since my first period at 12, it had been 28 days between periods. Heavy flow for a day. Light flow for two days. And done. Easy. No problem. No cramps. No discomfort. Just a minor inconvenience that didn't keep me from gymnastics, track, cross country, or the swim team.
I had been late exactly once, and that was when I was 22 and pregnant. That was it. So when I looked at the calendar and realized I was late the adrenaline rush left my bowels loose and I was sick, barely making it to the bathroom before losing my breakfast. And then I knew I was pregnant.
As I sat there, my cheek against the cold porcelain I kept saying to myself "no, God no, you can't be pregnant you dumb bitch. FUCK! You're 49 years old. You can't be."
When I got myself under control I washed my face and brushed my teeth, went to the local Walgreens, bought an Early Pregnancy Test, and hurried home.
I peed on the stick (and my fingers which were shaking) and waited the longest five minutes of my life.
And it was negative.
When the stick didn't turn blue I sat there on the edge of the tub and cried. No, that's not giving it justice. I bawled. I shrieked my relief to the empty house.
When I had myself under control I went into the kitchen to find my cell phone and dialed my Ob-Gyn, hitting the name "Pussy Doctor" on my contacts list.
The receptionist was her usual cheerful self and said she could get me in on Thursday. That left me three days to worry, but since I wasn't pregnant I felt better.
But as it always will, the time passed.
As always I felt a little foolish sitting there in the light exam gown. Truth to tell, I had a bit of a crush on my pussy doctor and was always like this. I kept hoping I'd get some sort of compliment, but no dice with him. He was never anything but professional. At least he warmed the speculum before getting intimate with me.
I told the nurse why I was there and she dutifully made some notes. Then Doctor Bob came in and sat down on his little stool. He listened to my story, doing that "mmhmmmm" and "I see," and making those doctor noises.
"Okay Judith," he said with a bit of a smile, "up on the table and feet in the stirrups."
And so there I was, in that most exposed position any woman ever finds herself in. I felt that pressure of insertion when the speculum went in and then that, well, to be honest, kind of enjoyable stretching as he gave my vaginal canal and cervix a once over.
"Okay," he said, giving my pussy a little pat as he always did, "get modest and let's talk."
I pulled the gown down, covering myself, and sat in that awkward position you do in a doctor's office. My feet were dangling and I was sort of bent over since there was no back available. Not to mention I was still naked except for the light gown and my bare ass was on the fake leather.
He surprised me then by standing and putting his hand on my head, pushing my chin down until it almost touched my chest. His fingers were working my hair and the nearest thing I could think of was when you used to get lice checks in grade school. He kept that up for a few seconds, lightly pulling my hair, and then released me.
Well, not quite released. He pushed my forehead until I was looking straight up at the ceiling. His fingers were sort of rubbing on my chin and my upper lip. I had nothing in my experience that I could compare it to. Finally, he took my hand and did the same thing up and down my forearm and took my foot to do the same thing to my calf and shin.
I sort of giggled and said, "are you going to pull back my lips to inspect my teeth too?"
And he DID.
"Doctor Bob," I said, a little anger showing through my voice, "you know I love you but what the fuck?"
He chuckled at that and leaned back on his stool, meeting my eyes.
"Okay Judith," he said, not shortening my name to Judy as I had requested on our first meeting, "here's the thing. There is absolutely nothing wrong with you."
I breathed a sigh of relief and said "so why did I miss a period?"
"Oh, you're going to be missing a lot of periods. It's menopause Judith," he said.
I felt my jaw drop, literally, and the tears start to flow.
"B-b-but I'm only f-f-f-f-forty nine," I managed to get out.
He smiled in that sympathetic way doctors seem to learn in med school.
"I know," he said, using that soothing voice they learn in the class after they learn that smile, "you're a bit young but well within normal."
He was patient while I cried for a while, which embarrassed me no end. I am, I think, a reasonably attractive woman, but I am not a pretty crier. So I was aware of swollen eyes, swollen nose, scrunched face, tears, snot, and the whole thing.