At this juncture I panic. What is an appropriate thing to say to let her know I’m in position? Welcome to the bat cave. Enter if you dare. Trespassers will be prosecuted.

‘Are you ready?’

Thank God she’s made it easy for me. ‘Yes!’

I sound way too chirpy.

‘Is there any chance you could be pregnant?’

With a confidence that I rarely feel when asked a question, I reply, ‘Nope.’

She moves my legs into position. ‘Right, try to relax. You will feel a small amount of pressure.’

I look up to check out what is going on, but she’s dived under the sheet. I do as she says and I try to relax, but forcing yourself to relax is very hard.

‘OK, all done.’

I can feel my right eyebrow rising an unnatural amount. Whaaaat? I didn’t feel a thing. Maybe I have a numb vagina. Maybe it has actually died from lack of use.

Amidst thoughts of my dying vagina, I get up only to realize that I did so much thinking about getting undressed that I didn’t think about getting re-dressed.

The nurse is mumbling something, but all I can see is the tumbleweed of tights and pants currently getting twisted further by my sweaty hands. Mocking me. I can practically hear them saying, ‘Ha, this is for all those times you left us on the bathroom floor, cold and alone, a mere ten centimetres away from the safety of the laundry bin.’

I look down and somehow I’ve already put on my coat, which will make it even harder to put my underwear and tights back on. The extra bulk. The extra layer. The lack of flexibility at my elbows and shoulders. I will definitely tuck my dress into my tights. I can feel the sweat on my upper lip forming.

In a split-second decision I decide to leave as I am, wearing no pants and no tights. Instead, I shove them into my coat pocket and make a run for it, an errant tight foot with fluff on it poking out of the pocket. My shoes are not shoes that should be worn without a barrier between them and my feet. My feet are going to rub.

I reach the freedom of outside and immediately regret my decision to forgo the tights, for many reasons.

Firstly, Mary was right, it is quite chilly, certainly a lot chillier than I remember it being – probably because I had tights and pants on before. Secondly, it’s also windier outside than I remember it being, making it highly probable that I will flash someone, particularly because my previously perfect outfit choice has a big flap at the front due to its ‘wrap-around’ nature. And thirdly, I haven’t shaved my legs for a while, so I will have to walk home to avoid the close human contact and the harsh, hair-emphasizing lights that both come with public transport. Next time I go for a smear test I will wear trousers. Wearing trousers means I have no choice but to put them back on, and the potential embarrassment of letting the nurse watch me struggle to dress myself far outweighs the more than likely embarrassment of flashing too many unsuspecting strangers with my cold, dead vagina.