I'm turning an age that ends in a zero soon. Ends with a zero and starts with a four. I'm pretty blah about that. It's a number. I've got a career, health (more below), a wonderful woman, and all that.
Part of celebrating the eleventh anniversary of one's twenty-ninth birthday, at least for a male (or sissy, or whatever...I have male parts) is a trip to the doctor for a physical.
So, off I went this morning. I'd planned on going, then coming home to change for work (doctor is only a mile away), so I was only going to wear track pants, a sweatshirt, etc. I went to my drawer (my boy drawer as Emily calls it) and got out a pair of boxer shorts.
"What are you doing," Emily asked me, walking into the room fastening an earring in her ear.
"I have my physical this morning; I did not want to put on a suit for that."
"No, no, I get that. I mean, what are you doing with those," she asked, pointing at the boxers in my hands.
"Emily," I groaned, knowing exactly what she meant in her tone.
She raised her eyebrows. "You don't have to wear a garter belt and stockings, for crying out loud, I wouldn't to the doctor, but you don't have to wear those, either."
"So what am I supposed to wear," I puffed, irritated at her. I knew I could do what I wanted; wearing boxer shorts was not 'forbidden' but Emily really didn't like it when I did, even if I had to for some reason or another.
Reading my mind, Em answered. "Wear whatever you want, but you now I'd prefer you in something besides those. Even cotton panties are better than those," she said, wrinkling her nose in disgust, which itself was humorous, as I know she found a masculine man in boxer shorts attractive.
"I don't have any cotton panties," I immediately retorted.
"And I'd never let you borrow a pair," she shot back just as fast.
I sighed, did the little thing I did, that facial expression, eyes closed, when Emily irritated. me.
"Do what you want," she said, putting it right back on me, turning back towards her jewelry box.
"Can I," I asked, finally.
"Can you want?"
"Can I borrow a pair of panties," I asked as humble as I could.
"You really don't have to," she said, a hint of triumph in her voice.
"Emily, may I borrow a pair of cotton panties, please?"
"Yes, you may," she said, going to her drawer, opening it, rummaging around. She turned and handed me both a pair of pink cotton panties and a matching camisole.
"Both," I asked, knowing what the answer would be.
She nodded. "I assume you'll undress alone, so I doubt you have any reason to be worried, though to be honest, do you really think anything a doctor sees really matters? You think an internist doesn't have several transgendered patients? You could go in there wearing a skirt and blouse and not raise an eyebrow."
It turns out she was right, mostly.
When I got there, the nurse escorted me to the room, handed me a gown, and told me to strip to my underwear (meaning my panties, of course, as she didn't know I was wearing a camisole, too.) She said she had to do an EKG, get my blood pressure, other vitals, then I'd finish undressing for the doctor. Thus, it sounded like no one would see.
Em was mostly right because the nurse did see more than the doctor. In doing the EKG, attaching leads here and there, the nurse rearranged the gown in a way that at least a third, maybe half of my panties were uncovered by the gown. I was on my back, looking down. I saw the pink, she obviously did, but said nothing. If anything, she was very kind to me, professional, yet extremely kind.
It was completely uneventful. The doctor saw me completely naked, no panties, did the physical. All is good. My ticker is great, blood pressure fine, weight great, etc. Prostate healthy (my first prostate exam.)
Emily asked me about that when I called her, but I'm saving that discussion, for another time.
Part of celebrating the eleventh anniversary of one's twenty-ninth birthday, at least for a male (or sissy, or whatever...I have male parts) is a trip to the doctor for a physical.
So, off I went this morning. I'd planned on going, then coming home to change for work (doctor is only a mile away), so I was only going to wear track pants, a sweatshirt, etc. I went to my drawer (my boy drawer as Emily calls it) and got out a pair of boxer shorts.
"What are you doing," Emily asked me, walking into the room fastening an earring in her ear.
"I have my physical this morning; I did not want to put on a suit for that."
"No, no, I get that. I mean, what are you doing with those," she asked, pointing at the boxers in my hands.
"Emily," I groaned, knowing exactly what she meant in her tone.
She raised her eyebrows. "You don't have to wear a garter belt and stockings, for crying out loud, I wouldn't to the doctor, but you don't have to wear those, either."
"So what am I supposed to wear," I puffed, irritated at her. I knew I could do what I wanted; wearing boxer shorts was not 'forbidden' but Emily really didn't like it when I did, even if I had to for some reason or another.
Reading my mind, Em answered. "Wear whatever you want, but you now I'd prefer you in something besides those. Even cotton panties are better than those," she said, wrinkling her nose in disgust, which itself was humorous, as I know she found a masculine man in boxer shorts attractive.
"I don't have any cotton panties," I immediately retorted.
"And I'd never let you borrow a pair," she shot back just as fast.
I sighed, did the little thing I did, that facial expression, eyes closed, when Emily irritated. me.
"Do what you want," she said, putting it right back on me, turning back towards her jewelry box.
"Can I," I asked, finally.
"Can you want?"
"Can I borrow a pair of panties," I asked as humble as I could.
"You really don't have to," she said, a hint of triumph in her voice.
"Emily, may I borrow a pair of cotton panties, please?"
"Yes, you may," she said, going to her drawer, opening it, rummaging around. She turned and handed me both a pair of pink cotton panties and a matching camisole.
"Both," I asked, knowing what the answer would be.
She nodded. "I assume you'll undress alone, so I doubt you have any reason to be worried, though to be honest, do you really think anything a doctor sees really matters? You think an internist doesn't have several transgendered patients? You could go in there wearing a skirt and blouse and not raise an eyebrow."
It turns out she was right, mostly.
When I got there, the nurse escorted me to the room, handed me a gown, and told me to strip to my underwear (meaning my panties, of course, as she didn't know I was wearing a camisole, too.) She said she had to do an EKG, get my blood pressure, other vitals, then I'd finish undressing for the doctor. Thus, it sounded like no one would see.
Em was mostly right because the nurse did see more than the doctor. In doing the EKG, attaching leads here and there, the nurse rearranged the gown in a way that at least a third, maybe half of my panties were uncovered by the gown. I was on my back, looking down. I saw the pink, she obviously did, but said nothing. If anything, she was very kind to me, professional, yet extremely kind.
It was completely uneventful. The doctor saw me completely naked, no panties, did the physical. All is good. My ticker is great, blood pressure fine, weight great, etc. Prostate healthy (my first prostate exam.)
Emily asked me about that when I called her, but I'm saving that discussion, for another time.
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