A woman walks into the doctor’s office wearing a tight skirt and a nervous smile.
The doctor says, “What seems to be the problem?”
She leans in and whispers, “Vagina.”
The doctor blinks. “Okay… anything in particular?”
She just says it again, more seriously this time: “Vagina.”
He raises an eyebrow, puts on gloves, and says, “Alright, let’s take a look.”
He examines her thoroughly, doesn’t see anything unusual, but gives her some antibiotics — just in case.
A week later, she’s back.
Doctor: “Still having issues?”
Her: “Vagina.”
He’s a bit flustered now, so this time he not only inspects but gently prods and presses. Still nothing seems off.
He gives her stronger meds and says, “If this doesn’t help, we’ll have to dig deeper.”
Third visit. She walks in without knocking. Tight dress. No bra.
Doctor sighs. “Okay… same problem?”
She nods. “Vagina.”
He throws his hands up. “Look, I’ve examined it, touched it, even had a colleague check it out. There’s nothing wrong with your vagina.”
She leans over, bites her lip, and slides a note across the table.
He opens it. It reads:
"Doc, nothing’s wrong. I just love when you touch it like you mean it.” |
