"How's your day?"
"Great for a Monday. Kind of slow. I'm getting a lot done, and I'll probably have time to catch up on some journal reading this afternoon. I have a really cool case I've never seen - a pregnancy leuteoma. It's out for consult, but I'm pretty sure that's what it is. How is yours?"
"Ugh. Four medical livers. Nasty outflow obstruction. But other than that, fine. So do you have a hot date for the weekend?"
I laughed. He's been asking me that every week for the past month. I think he wants to live vicariously, but he's barking up the wrong tree right now. "Nope, no hot dates lined up. Laurie and I saw Hamlet this weekend, and it was wonderful."
"Is that a new shirt?"
"Yes! I got it this weekend." I was shopping at Kohl's for the kids, and I saw some beautiful long john shirts on sale for eight bucks. I bought a dark coral, an ivory, and a cornflower blue. They all have subtle but wonderful bohemian patterns - perfect for fall transition with scrubs. I debated over the medium and large, and decided to go with the large.
"It's kind of big. It drowns you. I think you need tighter shirts. And a boob job. Then the guys would be falling all over you."
I might have been offended if this was coming from anyone other than Dr. Woods, but I just laughed. "So you think I need a boob job? I know people that are happy with them, but I've also heard a lot of horror stories. Cockeyed nipples (I demonstrated with my fingers shaped like errant arrows in front of my chest and now it was his turn to double over). Open ports. Silicone busting. Nope, I think I'll stick with what I've got."
I've had the experience of bigger boobs. Double DD's, when I was nursing. And I can understand why women pay for them. They hypnotize men. I've witnessed it. I remember certain male attendings (I could have guessed which ones before I was nursing) never met me in the eye for months while I was nursing - they just stared at my boobs during every conversation. I felt like I could have asked them to buy me a car instead of when are we going to meet to discuss this autopsy and they would have just smiled and nodded. It was comical. I certainly don't judge anyone who wants one, but it is not for me. I know too many people that regret it, and friends that are naturally endowed are frustrated by the unwanted attention.
There is also a downside. They hurt! Maybe not so much when they aren't swollen with milk, but it is harder to exercise. And they cause lower back pain. To someone who isn't used to having them, they are cumbersome and unwieldy. Plus, and I've never investigated this from a medical standpoint, so I could be way off base, but I worry about nerve damage, during surgery. How that might affect things.
Dr. Woods said, "I've been trying to get my wife to get them, but no dice." I think he was joking, but I replied, "Good for her." She is about the same size as me, and we underdogs have to root for each other.
I put down my glass slide. "C'mon, I hear there are good cookies from that Ed's Bakery in Conway in the break room. Let's go get one."
"Maybe you'll find some guys around the cookies, and you can get a hot date."
I can count on one hand the number of guys I have dated, and still have leftover fingers. I've always attracted a certain overly aggressive type that plows me down with attention, and in retrospect, that's pretty telling considering how the relationships turned out. Nope, I'm not eager to go there again anytime soon.
"You'll be the first to know, I promise."