It’s great to be a girl.

Yesterday I went to my ob-gym for a routine checkup. Or so I thought.

Once I got there, I discovered I was about to have an exam which involved my doctor inserting his gloved finger in my butt. If you’re squirming just reading this, then you know exactly how I felt. The shock and awe was written all over my face.

In my mind I was thinking “you’re going to do what?!? Oh hell no.” But all I said was “ummm ok?”

The conversation went something like this.

Dr. H “Are you aware now that you are over 40 that I need to do a rectal exam?”

Me: “Nope.”

Dr. H “it’s called a blah blah blah. We are checking for blood in your stool. It also allows me to feel your ovaries better.”

Holy shit, there are so many things wrong with those statements.

First, did you just allude to the fact you are sticking your finger up my butt with the intention of getting poop on it? That seems counterintuitive. And disgusting.

Secondly, why on earth does the mere fact that I’m over 40 now require a poop check? That’s all it takes? No other signs, symptoms, anything?

Third, you can feel my ovaries through my asshole? What?!?

I couldn’t even focus on what he was saying. He was trying to explain why this exam was necessary but all I was thinking was “My Dr. is going to stick his finger in my ass. Holy shit.” I mean literally, shit.

I also found myself wondering how I had zero clue this was a part of women’s lives after 40. I mean, I’m aware of mammograms at 40 and colonoscopies at 50 (which apparently has been moved up to 45 now), but nowhere on my radar was a blue gloved finger in the butt from my ob-gyn. Nope.

I was dying to tell Matt what had happened the moment he walked through the door that night.

His typical “How was your day?” greeting was met by “Oh it was great. My Dr. stuck his finger in my ass.”

The look of sheer terror on his face was well worth my discomfort in the moment.

“He did what?” He said as he looked at me with wide eyes.

“Yep. He did. Apparently this is now a part of my obgyn visits.” I said, still feeling disbelief.

“Well, I guess this is just another reason it’s good to be a guy.” He said smiling.

I laughed. Oh how true that statement was.

As women, we do kind of get hosed. We have childbirth, Pap smears, periods, mammograms, rectal exams, menopause, pelvic floor issues, diastasis recti, hernias, c-sections, episiotomies, hysterectomies and many more I’m sure I’m forgetting right now.

I can only imagine the look on my husbands face if the nurse said to him “I’m just going to slice the skin from your balls to your asshole to reduce the risk of tearing.” OMG. The man would lose it. He’d puke or pass out or both. There’s no way.

Women on the other hand have bodies that go through hell and back. Talk about being forged in fire. We test the limits of our physical, mental and emotional strength on the regular. Fairytales have it all wrong. Prince Charming should not be rushing to the aid of the princess. We should be rescuing him.

Women have a strength that far exceeds what men possess. So why are we sometimes portrayed as beings that need to be taken care of? By men typically? Life has clearly shown that to be a fallacy. Women are insanely strong.

We know how to push through pain. We know how to sacrifice for the benefit of another. We know how to bear down when shit gets real and see it through to the end. We know how to care for ourselves when nobody else does. We know how to handle life. Our bodies and souls can do really hard things.

So yes, Matt, it is good to be a guy. But it is fucking awesome to be a girl.

Girls get to feel a baby move inside of them. Girls get to have multiple orgasms. Girls get to be the first person their children run to in their time of need. The person who is the keeper of secrets and the master of arts and crafts. We get to wear high heels and sneakers and bikinis and thongs. We have makeup. Girls get to be sexy and cute at the same time.

Yes, we also have the blessing of being able to pee when we sneeze or cough or jump on a trampoline. Guys don’t have that privilege.

We are also the first person our kids call out for when they have a bad dream. Or when they get sick in the middle of the night. We are the organizers of social events and life’s big moments. We are the leaders of the PTO and Tball coaches. We are Olympic skiers and rock climbers. We are weight lifters, ballet dancers and CEOs. We are whatever we put our minds and bodies to.

I guess if the downside is a few pokes and prods in my orafices from time to time, I can handle that. Cause I sure as hell am happy that I’m a girl.