Awkwardsations

Well you guys....this last post spilled the beans. My secret's out. No more taking all the credit for myself. The secret to my success is my stellar support system. Aren't my people great?!!! I don't think I can explain how it felt reading all those love letters. Pretty increible. Not to be confused with incredible. It was in-cre-i-ble.
I'm sure I was still riding on the birthday high this morning when I popped out of bed at 5:15 after a restless night of tossing and turning. And probably dreaming that I was winning the Olympics or something like that. NBD. That's how we roll up in here. Anyway, when I was convinced sleep would no longer be visiting me, I threw on some gym clothes. Before making my way out the door, I stopped for a looky in my full length mirror. And truth be told? I thought I was looking good. I don't know, but something about the way my outfit brought out the color in my shoe strings. Or something like that.

And you know, when you get all cocky like that, you're setting yourself up for misfortune. Especially when your pride is derived from your workout clothes since your workout of a few lifts here and there and walking on the treadmill for 8 minutes deserves no kind of award. But that's what we're working with these days in the exercise department. You get what you get and you don't get upset. And you say THANK YOU. Obviously I'm totally cool with the whole "beggars can't be choosers".
So I'm flying high from all yesterday's sugar- and by sugar I mean love- and I think I'm looking all cute in my workout gear (that didn't have a single sweat mark on it post-workout) as I'm making my way into the building for my 7:45 am doctor appointment. And it was at that moment- not a week before when I made the appointment, or Monday when I thought about the appointment, or even this morning when I was on my way to the doctor- that the thought crossed my mind, "I wonder if the doctor takes my insurance." It's times like this that I drive myself absolutely crazy. I mean, for the love of money, how come these thoughts never cross my mind at a timely manner? How do I not think of these simple, important details? I'm not being irresponsible, inconsiderate, ir-anything else. They simply don't cross my mind. Like ever. Or at least until I have my credit card in hand and the secretary is telling me the charges.
I get to the suite and check in and ask if by the off chance their office isn't in my insurance network.  Roll the dice, will ya, folks. 50/50 chance. Her response? "No, no, I'm sorry. It's out of network. And if my records are correct, she was out of network for your last baby." How do I not remember these things??? I mean, for real. The audacious conversation with the office manager when I was 33 weeks pregnant, where I'm begging her to let me go to my doctor for in-network costs? The sigh of relief when they say yes? How did these moments not resurface when I was dialing those same numbers to make the doctor appointment?
It's only now.. that I do remember it. When I'm already at the doctor. With an appointment. Desperate to get my IUD out. The secretary assures me, "You can always talk with the doctor when you see her in a minute. She's real good about working with her patients." The only word that comes to my mind is AWKWARD. And maybe tacky. To be seated in her chair, awaiting her services, and slip into a conversation about hooking me up with a discount. Right before she works on my lady parts to boot.
But I ain't too proud to beg, y'all. And maybe what I really mean is I'm more than a little ashamed to let my money maker see a bill that says I spent $500 on getting my IUD out. That there is motivation. Even having a nice husband such as mine. And really how awkward can that conversation be? {At least that was the pep talk I was giving myself.}
Well let me tell you awkward turns to super awkward when I'm seated on the table, with a children's size 6 miniature apron wrapped around me, not even covering my shriveled double A's. My crotch had a light, pink cotton napkin covering it. I believe I had approximately one foot in the stirrup and one in some other completely unnatural position. 
That was the scene we had going on when I had to ask the doctor herself to have mercy on me and hook me up one last time with the in-network prices.
Make no mistake it was as bad as it sounds. But also make no mistake that $500 quickly turned into $100. And lastly, make no mistake in thinking that $400 came for free. That was a steep, steep price. Hard LABOR.  And we're not talking about birthing labor. But someone had to do it.

And now here I am, down from my high horse, put in my place. It was a good ride while it lasted!