The Dermatologist and Old Underwear

About ten years ago I was having some pretty weird medical issues and no one could figure out what was going on. One of my symptoms was that I would all of a sudden blossom with hives, sometimes all over my body, other times in just a small area. The hives didn't usually last long, maybe a few hours, and then go away. I never knew when they would appear. My regular doctor referred me to a dermatologist to have this mysterious rash checked out. However, when I called to make the appointment and explained my situation, the doctor decided that it would do no good to see me unless the rash was actually present. I was a new patient to him and had never seen him before. It was finally arranged that I was to call his office when I broke out in the rash/hives and his staff was instructed to work me in for an appointment immediately. O.K. A plan was in place. I prepared my boss for the fact that one day I would just have to suddenly run out the door and fortunately my boss was willing to be so accommodating.

The day arrived! I was sitting at my desk one afternoon and realized that I was blooming! As instructed, I called the dermatology office and was told that I could come right down. Let me explain one thing for a moment. I live about 20 minutes west of town and the doctor's office was about 40 minutes south of town. In other words, I live too far away to "run by home" for anything. Why is that important? Wait for it.

I jumped in the car and headed south. It occurred to me, as I was driving, that I hadn't done laundry in a while and so consequently, I was wearing some very old granny panties with almost no elastic and they were being held up only by my pants. Oh well. My rash was on my torso and I was just going so the doctor could have a quick peek. No worries.

After arriving at the dermatology office and getting checked in I was led back to a room and instructed to don a paper gown. What? This was not that kind of office! I stood there alone, contemplating my circumstances. I realized that I had no choice. I tend to do what I am told. It would have never occurred to me to question the nurse. Dutifully,  I sat on a chair, took off my shoes and then my pants. At that moment, the full horror of elastic-less granny panties hit me. Also at that very moment, there was a short knock on the door and immediately a young man walked in. Turns out he was the doctor and he had not waited the appropriate amount of time so that I could get into the fetching paper gown (which, by the way, was looking mighty fine to me about now). To add insult to injury, he was absolutely drop dead gorgeous. I'm pretty sure he moonlighted as a male model. He was very friendly and nonchalantly asked me to just stand up right where I was. Uh oh.

If I stood would my panties end up around my ankles? Or, when he saw these grotesque panties would I wish they were down around my ankles? The rest of the appointment was a blur. As soon as I could, I ran from that office, drove straight home and threw away all my old undies.