by: Many Kind Regards Staff
Photo Credit: Flickr
Don't ask us how we started this conversation. But some of the MKR staff got to talking, you know how women sometimes do when they are avoiding real responsibilities, about a seemingly made-up scenario. What if you found out your friend’s husband was your gynecologist?
Lo and behold, it's not made up. It actually happened to one of us. (No don't ask who, we are standing in solidarity on this one...it's much too embarrassing) It prompted us to come up with a list. A friendship requirement of sorts. Without further ado... 25 reasons we can't be friends.
Photo Credit: Flickr
Don't ask us how we started this conversation. But some of the MKR staff got to talking, you know how women sometimes do when they are avoiding real responsibilities, about a seemingly made-up scenario. What if you found out your friend’s husband was your gynecologist?
Lo and behold, it's not made up. It actually happened to one of us. (No don't ask who, we are standing in solidarity on this one...it's much too embarrassing) It prompted us to come up with a list. A friendship requirement of sorts. Without further ado... 25 reasons we can't be friends.
If your husband has touched my cervix, for any reason... we can't be friends.
If I have ever had to say the words, "labia, cervix, uterus, or menstrual blood clot" to your husband... we can't be friends.
If your husband has ever told me to scoot down just a little… we can't be friends.
If your husband has ever offered me wet wipes and told me to clean up and get dressed... we can't be friends.
If your husband has ever told me everything looks good down there... we can't be friends.
If your husband has ever asked me if coitus hurts... we can't be friends.
If your husband has ever asked me how many active sexual partners I have... we can't be friends.
If your husband has ever offered to warm up the instruments... we can't be friends.
If your husband has ever asked me to leave the gown open and wrap a tissue sheet around my waist... we can't be friends.
If your husband has ever told me just to relax... we can't be friends.
If your husband has ever kneaded my breasts while talking about the weather... we can't be friends.
If your husband has ever asked me if I can reach the stirrups... we can't be friends.
If your husband has ever apologized to me for having big fingers... we can't be friends.
If I have ever wondered if I shaved my girl parts too much, or too little before I saw your husband... we can't be friends.
If your husband has ever complimented the shape of my lady parts... we can't be friends.
If I have ever had to hide my underwear under my jeans in front of your husband... we can't be friends.
If your husband has ever lowered a bright light between my thighs... we can't be friends.
If your husband has ever asked a nurse for more KY in my presence... we can't be friends.
If I have ever had to ask your husband for diflucan... we can't be friends.
If your husband has ever asked if I have a latex allergy... we can't be friends.
If your husband has ever asked me the date of my last menses… we can't be friends.
If your husband has ever asked me if I plan to have any more children… we can't be friends.
If your husband has ever knocked on a door and asked if I was ready… we can't be friends.
If your husband has ever asked me to push... we can't be friends.
If your husband has ever asked me if my husband is the father... we can't be friends.
Read next.... "I'm Forty, I Don't Have to Like You Anymore!"
If I have ever had to say the words, "labia, cervix, uterus, or menstrual blood clot" to your husband... we can't be friends.
If your husband has ever told me to scoot down just a little… we can't be friends.
If your husband has ever offered me wet wipes and told me to clean up and get dressed... we can't be friends.
If your husband has ever told me everything looks good down there... we can't be friends.
If your husband has ever asked me if coitus hurts... we can't be friends.
If your husband has ever asked me how many active sexual partners I have... we can't be friends.
If your husband has ever offered to warm up the instruments... we can't be friends.
If your husband has ever asked me to leave the gown open and wrap a tissue sheet around my waist... we can't be friends.
If your husband has ever told me just to relax... we can't be friends.
If your husband has ever kneaded my breasts while talking about the weather... we can't be friends.
If your husband has ever asked me if I can reach the stirrups... we can't be friends.
If your husband has ever apologized to me for having big fingers... we can't be friends.
If I have ever wondered if I shaved my girl parts too much, or too little before I saw your husband... we can't be friends.
If your husband has ever complimented the shape of my lady parts... we can't be friends.
If I have ever had to hide my underwear under my jeans in front of your husband... we can't be friends.
If your husband has ever lowered a bright light between my thighs... we can't be friends.
If your husband has ever asked a nurse for more KY in my presence... we can't be friends.
If I have ever had to ask your husband for diflucan... we can't be friends.
If your husband has ever asked if I have a latex allergy... we can't be friends.
If your husband has ever asked me the date of my last menses… we can't be friends.
If your husband has ever asked me if I plan to have any more children… we can't be friends.
If your husband has ever knocked on a door and asked if I was ready… we can't be friends.
If your husband has ever asked me to push... we can't be friends.
If your husband has ever asked me if my husband is the father... we can't be friends.
Read next.... "I'm Forty, I Don't Have to Like You Anymore!"