Somehow I have a big lump in an unmentionable place. It's south of the border, small and round and sore, almost like a tiny tumor. I have been worrying about it ever since its discovery. It's definitely not supposed to be there.
Definitely a sign of imminent death.
Or an STD.
But I haven't seen any new penises since I was last tested for STDs, ages ago.
I turned to Dr Google who exclaims, in full pictorial horror, that "Bartholin's Gland Cysts" happens to old people so I've just confirmed that it's part of the inevitable slide towards my demise.
I texted my sister, next, a nurse. She tried to reassure me. "It's common."
"How long do they last?"
I waited until my cubicle neighbors left for their coffee break and called my gynecologist for an appointment. "I have a lump down there" I said as three people marched back into the office. Fuck! Of all the days not to take the usual twenty minutes.
A few hours later, I found myself in stirrups, wide open, dignity back in the waiting room.
Doc grabbed her magnifying glass.
"Oh I could see why you thought it was a Bartholin's gland cyst -- it's right near there. But no, it's just a big pimple. An infected follicle gland. You're fine."
A zit?? You're kidding me.
I went home and lanced it over the sink. I don't recommend this at home but I will just say yoga classes come in handy in the most unexpected ways..