I'm not sure if the cause of my current breathing difficulties is a lung issue or if it's the tension filling up the empty space in the examination room. The air oozes with awkwardness. It's as if an elephant with a large ele'dick stands in the middle of the room.

Eyes locked on the floor, Pompoms pats me on the back. "Stand, please."

I slide off the table-bed until my bare feet hit the cold tiles. Pompoms extends the urgent care kazoo towards me and points to a hole. Without looking up she says, "I'm going to measure your lung strength. Blow here."

I take the hospital kazoo from Doctor Poms and rotate it between my fingers. Pompoms glances up just long enough to notice a confused expression on my face. "Put it in your mouth and make a secure seal with your lips. Then take a deep breath and blow as hard 'n fast as you can."

I nod, slowly opening my mouth like a fucking trout. It's somewhere at this point, between lowering my jaw and proceeding to insert the kazoo into my pie hole, when it dawns on me. I'm about to blow into an object that looks like a big, white, plastic dick. I'm about to blow into a six inch breath meter--thingy--which will score my blowing abilities.

Feelings of performance anxiety wash over me. I pause just before the hospital kazoo touches my lips and brush beads of sweat off my forehead--wiping the back of my sweaty hand on the hospital gown. It's as though I've been entered in the Porn Olympics--competing in the 6 inch breathstroke. My confidence levels have already been hindered due to standing partially naked in front of the Urgent Care Sex God. Now I need to give this medical dildo a hard/fast blow? FML.

I glance quickly over my shoulder at Nurse McSexy. Thankfully he's not even watching my attempt to go for the gold. Instead, he's staring at his foot tapping against the floor.

The room is so silent, the smallest sounds seem magnified. Besides McSexy's tapping foot, I can also hear the ticking of a clock I hadn't noticed until now. If these small noises make a racket in the current stillness, my kazoo blowing is about to sound like damn spit infused typhoon.

I gaze at the urgent care kazoo's blow hole--centimeters from my mouth. Heart pounding. Toes gripping the tile floor. Heat rising in my face. My complexion is surely redder than my ass hives. Flashing a hippo butt is one thing. Participating in the Hoover Games is downright--mortifying.

I inhale as much air into my lungs as I can.

Lick my lips.

Close my eyes.

Clamp my lips tightly around the cylindrical plastic.

Pause.

[Blow]

Pompoms removes the device from my mouth to observe the reading, her eyebrow arching in what seems to be approval. Adjusting the settings back to the starting position, she hands the cock'zoo back to me. "I'm taking the average of three readings," she explains. "Remember--blow as hard and fast as you can. Make sure the air rushes out of your mouth, not your nose."

I have to fucking do this again?

For some strange reason the words nose and blow get stuck in my mind. I find myself wondering why as a kid I told strangers "Kazoo-tight" instead of "Gesundheit" after they sneezed. Clearly the pronunciation of the German word deteriorated by the time it made it to my family, which has me thinking, what else about my life needs a more accurate articulation or translation? It's like the answers I seek are right in front of me, I just don't understand the language.

An image flashes in my mind's eye--

--but I don't understand why.

"Remember. Through the mouth," Pompoms repeats, snapping me out of my random thoughts.

I inhale as deep as I can.

Lock my lips around the cock'zoo.

Pause.

[Blow]

Again, Pompoms takes the kazoo from my lips and seems pleased with my score. "One more," she encourages. "So far the readings are above average for your age."

I sit up a little taller and straighten my shoulders. That's right bitches! I'm above average for my age!

"People think I'm younger than I am." I grin at Pompoms. "If I was wearing real clothes and makeup right now, I'd look about 25--and 40 pounds lighter." Again, I glance over my shoulder at McSexy to see if he's picking up any of the stretched truth I'm throwing down--but he's not. Still staring at the floor while rubbing his hand behind his neck, the medical Sex God appears to be a million miles away.

"You do look young for your age," Pompoms agrees. "I'd never guess you were in your 40's."

"Older women are trendy right now," I comment.

"Apparently older men are trendy, too," McSexy adds.

I laugh at McSexy's comment without looking at him. "People keep telling me that, but I'm not sure I'm ready to date grandpa." I glance over my shoulder a third time. This time the handsome nurse is looking up, but he's not looking at me. His intense glare is fixed on Pompoms. "Oh," I whisper, immediately returning my attention to my hands--thumbs twiddling as though they're playing a wimpy game of thumb wrestling.

Pompoms doesn't respond. Instead, she turns to face the counter so her back is towards McSexy, adjusting the settings on the kazoo.

"Just one more." Pompoms hands me the kazoo, but just before I'm about to make that final blow, there's a knock. I glance over my shoulder as McSexy opens the door.

Ms. Bubbles pops her head in, handing the nurse a paper. "Here's that information you asked for." Quickly glancing around the room, Bubbles signals McSexy with wide eyes--flashing her pupils towards the Respiratory Specialist pretending to be occupied with something on the counter. Then like a good Catholic, Bubbles makes the sign of the cross before slipping out of the room.

My shoulders pull themselves up to my ears, awkwardness looming all around me. I don't know what's going on between these two, but any personal humiliation I may have felt prior to this moment is gone--which is a relief. However, I'm curious as hell to know what their story is. My inner gossip detective races to uncover a sneaky way to find out.

With the medical kazoo between my lips, I inhale as deep as I can.

Pause.

[Blow]

Pompoms examines the results and smiles. Well, technically her lips smile. Her eyes refuse to synchronize with the emotion her mouth is pretending to portray.

"If your nurse asks, your lung strength is good." Pompoms gathers her items off the counter before addressing me one last time. "Don't hesitate to come back in if your breathing worsens, but for now it seems fine."

"That's a relief," I reply

Extending her hand she adds, "Glad I could bring some relief. It was nice to meet you."

I take Pompom's hand into mine and give it a gentle shake. "Nice to meet you, too."

Walking backwards towards the exit with her back to McSexy, Pompoms throws open the door and disappears.

Oh, SNAP!

*****McSEXY BREAK*****

Dang it! See what kind of needless embarrassment my dirty mind inflicts on me? It totally blows.

MUSIC: Patrick Swayze. The message of this song has absolutely nothing to do with this chapter, but the title--SHE'S LIKE THE WIND--made me laugh. Plus, Dirty Dancing is amazeballs and should be represented whenever possible. (Okay--the song might sort of apply to Poms & McSexy--sort of)

Your vote is truly McAppreciated. Muah!

MarilynHepburn.com

(This is a second edit chapter)