[Title] fabulous disposition
[Deck] fashion hurts
[Byline] by sean robert
I don’t know much in this life, but I do know one thing: with fall comes great fashion. As the yellow leaves begin to plummet to the ground, I cannot help but revel in one of my favourite pastimes: layering. After an uninspiring summer of t-shirts and shorts, the thought of being able to combine clothes together once again is like music to my ears.
However, as the world turns, such fabulous style does not come without a devastating price. And that number is not just listed on tag. No, much worse, it is cruelly measured by the fall of mercury in a kitchen thermometer. And so to revise my previous statement: with fall, not only comes great fashion, but also frigid temperatures and dire illness.
With this in mind, the following is a story of how fall once ruined my sex life.
Ravaged by last year’s cold and flu season, my body launched a full-out war against me.
With months before my next scheduled doctor’s appointment, I was left with no choice but to become a regular at my local walk-in clinic. For months I became medically promiscuous, opening wide for every new physician that walked in the door.
Several trips and minor illnesses later, I realized something quite suspicious: no matter what symptoms I presented each doctor with, their medical prognosis was always the same: an STI. After waking up one morning with a mysterious rash on my upper body, I proceeded to get it checked out. Needless to say my mouth dropped when after taking one look, the practitioner asked me if was sexually active and then told me the first sign of H.I.V is a rash.
Despite my attempts to convince the medical authorities I was Miss Monogamy Sunshine, my efforts were futile. Within moments of each doctor’s arrival, I wouldn’t even have to say anything before they’d peg me as the whore of Babylon. The next time I walked into a different physician’s office with a sore throat, I walked out five minutes later with two pills for Chlamydia, three for gonorrhea and a blood test for herpes.
Naively, during all that time, I never once stopped to think how my penchant for flailing scarves might translate in the medical world. Unbeknownst to me every time a doctor walked in, my crossed legs and fabulous outfits were accompanied by flashing lights on top my head that blinked “high-risk group.”
My crossed legs and fabulous outfits were accompanied by flashing lights on top my head that blinked “high-risk group.”
For months afterwards my experience with the public health system left me with an irrational fear of anything sex-related. Never once in that time was I actually diagnosed with an STI, but that did not stop me from still thinking I had syphilis every time I came home from Gio’s.
The moral of the story is that if you want a healthy sex life during cold and flu season, dress down every time you visit the doctor.
Published: Outwords Inc. #156 October 2008