With these young women, I no longer slip in and out of places undetected. With them, my cloak of invisibility—my only known superpower—has been removed.
My first gynecologist tells me that my vagina is on the smaller side of the normal range. I use this as a justification for why, at eighteen, I still can’t get a tampon in more than a quarter of an inch past my hymen.
When a doctor examines a woman, it is a moment of acute vulnerability. And it lasts until she is sitting up and fully clothed. It lasts until she gathers herself and leaves, stepping back into the “normal” world and her place within it.
My gynecologist makes me feel like the complex whole I am. He makes me feel both normal and unique, recognizes that my body and my emotions are inextricably connected.