Consolation Prize

The paper gown is more like one of those disposable table cloths you buy at the dollar store for a kid's birthday party. Why bother, really. Gina is lying on her back, bum edged to the lip of the table, feet in stirrups, knees folded in together, waiting for the doctor to return. Another young fresh-out-of-med-school graduate. At least she didn't give her the stink eye when she asked for an internal. Gina's old enough to be her mom. When did she get old? How does that happen. She's getting hit on by younger and younger men every day, disconcertingly so. She's stopped responding because it's just not worth the effort to try to communicate with them on any level. She doesn't find it flattering anymore. When did that change, huh. So much shifting and it's only in retrospect that Gina puts things together. A relief actually. No longer concerned with what anyone else thinks- how she dresses, what she looks like, how she moves. It's not like she was obsessed before. Okay, perhaps a bit too focused but that's the nature of working in front of a camera for a living. There's a sense of freedom, a comfort in her own skin, that has silently and steadfastly manifested over the last years. Probably why the young dudes are scratching and pawing at the door like a pack of wolves looking for a kill. A bit harsh but after Jarrod she knows that she's sworn off the young ones forever. One speed: 11. It's like a jackhammer, an Olympic event. People get injured that way. Hence, why her ass is flapping in the wind with a crepe paper drape spread across her knees. Her new doc is beautiful- gorgeous skin, good bones. Smart, good eye contact. And tiny, not the amazonian long limbed mantis that Gina is. Hmm. Might be a good fit for Jarrod. Spunky. Once she gets the all clear she'll suggest it to him. A peace offering of sorts. A consolation prize.

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