Since my last photo study was such a success (yes, I am full of myself, thankyouverymuch), I decided to make it a series. Today's photo study comes from my gynecologist's office. That would be the offices of Nekkid Lady Doctors R Us, St. Tammany.
The waiting room.
I wouldn't even call this the waiting room. This is the torture room that knows no time. The television in the corner plays soap operas or EXCUSE ME, daytime dramas. I got a daytime drama for you — me waiting in that damn room. When I was pregnant with Andrew the television played Food Network, which was great, because I was pregnant and always hungry. Now I'm not pregnant, but I'm also not launching my own makeup line or having an affair with my ex-husband while trying to figure out if my newborn is my husband's or the gardner's — so soaps really aren't that interesting to me. There are no decent magazines in this room. I am told it's because they are all taken to the exam rooms by patients. Yeah.
It's art time!
Y'all know I am nothing if not an art lover, but I simply cannot stand the art in this office.
I don't remember the title, but I call it "Blank Stare Chick in a Chair."
I don't remember the title of this one either, but I call it "Blank Stare Chick Against a Wall."
Onto the art in the my exam room. I've been a patient here for a little over five years and only twice have I been taken to another exam room. The exam room has a little tv monitor playing a video of the laser skin resurfacing procedure you can have for Rosacea or acne scars. It's on a loop. A loop. I've seen this video eleventy seven times.
Oh, and there's art!
I'm sure this has a perfectly decent title, but I call it "Wednesday Adams at Boredom School." I dislike this one the most. I don't know if it's the creepy porcelain doll (I hate porcelain dolls and think they're creep city, just so you know) or chickie's blank stare, which seems even more blank (if that's possible) than the others. Eeek.
Yeah. You know what I'm going to say. This chick has white afro puffs on her head for no damn reason. I've sat in the exam room three times in the past month and stared at this picture. I have pretend conversations with her.
Me: What's wrong, afro puffs too tight?
Her: No, I'm just thinking about Birdie. Wondering where she is, what she is doing, who she is with, is she thinking of me, and will she ever return to me someday?
Me: Let me guess. Your bird flew out the window?
Her: Yes, Birdie.
Me.: Sadly predictable, window being open and all.
Her: Birdie was a gift from Pablo, my Spanish lover. He gave Birdie to me the night he left for the bullfights.
Me: So, Pablo's gone too?
Her: Si.
Me: I see.
Her: And so I sit here, wondering about Pablo, what he is doing, who he is with, what he is thinking, is he thinking of me, and will he ever return to me someday?
Me: Damn, stop staring at me. I've been sitting here too long and I watched way too much Kids in the Hall in the '90s. It's cold in here. Why are there so many pamphlets? Is it "pamphlets" or "pamplets?" Did I put on deodorant this morning? Yeah, I did. I wonder if I have time to get my phone out of my purse and sit back down before my doctor comes in. Why didn't I bring my purse over here? Ugh. Do I need laser skin resurfacing?
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