"Hm. Maybe this job is better suited for a lady?"

[It's pretty obvious that the average CollegeCandy reader has some very strong opinions. Opinions that she likes to share with everyone on the site. We love a strong woman, so we thought we'd give her a real forum to discuss her thoughts, feelings, and perspectives. Every Friday I'll be featuring a hot topic (like the first-semester boyfriend!) and leaving it up to you, the readers, to duke it out. So, read it and get your debate on in the comments section below!]

Ok, let’s be honest, no one likes going to the doctor. Throw in a paper gown, putting your legs in stirrups and a “spreader” and it’s no surprise that a lot of us avoid going to the gynecologist like a plague of genital warts. But the truth is that there’s no way to really be in charge of your sexual life unless you bother to stay sexually healthy, and the lady-parts doctor is a necessary part of that.

While we try to give you hand with some of those problems here at College Candy, one of the biggest obstacles between “tear-my-hair-out terrifying” and “not my favorite thing, but bearable” is finding a down-there doctor you like, trust and feel comfortable around – and not surprisingly, a big factor for a lot of ladies is their doc’s gender.

It’s natural that a lot of girls are more comfy having another woman looking at their most private areas than they are having to spread their legs in front of a man. And aside from just the physical exam, there’s also the fact that you need to be comfortable talking about all of your most intimate problems and habits with your gyno, and there are some things that are just easier to say to someone who doesn’t remind you of your dad. Also, no matter how many years of school a man goes through, there’s nothing that can really teach someone what it’s like to  have a hoo-ha except having one; a female doctor definitely has a better chance of having experienced your issues herself, and potentially giving you some first hand insight.

There might be some problems with going to a female gyno, though. To start with, female gynecologists make up only one third of the current American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists membership (though the number is on the rise). Depending on where you live, getting a female doc might mean traveling quite a distance for your appointments, which will only make you less likely to go. Also, the number of female down-there doctors has been steadily rising over the last twenty years, but many of the docs who have been practicing longest (and thus are the most experienced) are men.

And there’s nothing wrong with going to a male doctor. One of the biggest things that women mention when they worry about male gynos is the fact that there is at least an assumed attraction to women, and thus the lady-parts they’re looking at.  But regardless of sexual proclivities, just like any other doc, male gynos are trained to look at our junk as just parts, not as sexy things. And the truth is, no one is going to go through all of the time and expense of becoming a legit gyno just so he can scope out some girl-parts; there are easier ways. (Editor’s Note: like buying me shots at the bar…)

At the end of the day, the only wrong choice you can make about a gynecologist is not to go to one at all. So don’t let the fear of being a little uncomfortable put you – and everyone you sleep with - at risk. To find a gynecologist in your area (male or female) check out the ACOG physician directoryonline or talk to your lady pals and see who they would recommend. It’s really not as bad as you think.

What do you say girls: would you prefer to go to a gyno who has all the same parts as you, or would you rather go to a guy? Do you think that your doc’s gender matters at all? Let us know down below! (Tee hee – down below.)

Little over a week ago, I missed one step down a flight of stairs (the last one, too) on the way to my boyfriend’s university’s annual Fancy Dress formal, which sent my favorite pair of Steve Maddens into an untimely death (my right heel split) as I sprained my ankle and broke my fifth metatarsal on my right foot. Screaming and crying as this occurred, I did what anyone else would have done (not!) – I put my torn heel back on my right foot, stopped my mascara from running, dusted my dress off, picked a few pieces of gravel out of my palms, and grabbed my boyfriend’s hand, letting him know I was still game to dance.

He protested, but I was on a mission to dance and enjoy the night. Nothing could have stopped me. So, we did just dance. We danced for hours, and it hurt like hell, but that was not going to stop me from twisting, turning, dipping, grinding, and all that good stuff. After having one of the best nights from this semester, the two of us called it a night, which is when reality hit in the form of red, black, purple, and blue bruises around my right foot and ankle.

Following a trip to the ER, six x-rays, and one doctor that wasn’t too eager to answer questions, I was sitting in a sticky vinyl wheelchair realizing that I broke my foot and sprained my ankle. Most people have a tendency to be accident prone (especially when alcohol is involved), but, damn, I really did it this time. A double whammy!

With a week of crutches under my belt, a soft cast and now an air-cast (picked by a super creepy orthopedic doctor over an actual hard, plaster cast), I can attest that college is not a place for crutches, casts, or broken bones of any kind. Every day activities have proved beyond difficult, from opening the door to the bathroom (which I swear weighs a ton) to getting a tray in the dining hall (I have to fully rely on my best friend to get my dinner for me). When I think of college, I think of independence, which I am sure I have lost in the last week and a half because now I have to rely on everyone around me for help.

Never had to rock crutches or a cast in school? Straight up, it sucks! If I am not going up and down the two flights of stairs in my residence hall (there is no elevator, and I live on the third floor), I am lying in bed with my foot elevated (still in pain – I have had a bit of difficulty with pain killers working effectively).

Walking to class used to take a minute or two, now I have to leave 20 minutes prior in hopes to get there on time. And the worst of it all (in my opinion) is the inability to shower. Although I have an aircast on (which I can take off during a shower), I still can’t maneuver around by myself well enough to make it to the shower or stand alone. So, now I have to wait until Thursdays for my boyfriend to come pick me up (I can’t drive anymore since it’s my right foot), so I can bathe like the rest of society.

Frustrating is the only word that comes to mind when describing this situation to other people. While I am blessed to have friends that go out of their way to help me and an amazing boyfriend that can be patient in taking care of me, I have to admit, my spirit is a bit down because I know I am in store for a lot of patience testing moments within the next six weeks. However, I know my broken foot and ankle needs to heal, so at least this torment of only wearing Soffe shorts and smelling like I haven’t bathed in days (and I haven’t) is worth it.

Although I will have my cast for the rest of the semester, it won’t even be off in time for my own formal or end of year parties that are coming up, I have to confess – I had the best time the night this happened. It seems stupid, foolish even, but knowing that was the last time I will have fun like that for awhile makes it even more worth it. I’d rather have that one crazy night of dancing on a broken foot instead of just going home and never dancing on it at the ball, after all. Call me crazy, but knowing that I had such a fabulous time makes up for the times I’ll be missing in the coming weeks.

Ok, so I know I can’t be alone in this. Who has broken something since being in college? Tell me. How did you survive? What was the hardest part? I want to hear everything about your stories.

Health guidelines and facts are constantly changing as we learn more about the human body and what we need to stay strong. To maintain optimal health, you need to keep up to date with the newest in fitness, nutrition and medical research.

Check out the latest headlines about that unique body of yours:

- So you think you’ll impress your crush by taking on a beer bong like a champ? A new study published in the March issue of Psychology of Addictive Behaviors asked women how much they thought they needed to drink at a social event to interest a man. The women’s estimates were more than twice what the guys said they would prefer. At your next party, drink less and truly impress!

- Has sex with your man been more pain than pleasure? Blame last week’s sushi dinner! A study of the latest food poisoning outbreak in North Carolina reveals a link between sexual pain and consuming predatory fish contaminated with Ciquatera Fish Poisoning (CFP). Men have reported painful ejaculation and women have described a burning sensation. Unfortunately, fish contaminated with CFP cannot be detected through odor or taste and is not a result of spoilage or preparation. Your best bet is to avoid predatory fish like Barracuda, Grouper, Red Snapper and Amberjack. Ask your waiter if any of the dishes contain these fish.

- I am the biggest baby when it comes to getting vaccinated. Wouldn’t it be nice if I could just eat yogurt instead of getting stabbed in the arm? Researchers have developed a way to use the probiotics in yogurt to release a vaccine through your stomach’s immune system. This method was quicker and more effective than injections in a study using mice and an anthrax vaccine. The scientists are even developing a yogurt vaccine for breast cancer and other infectious diseases!

- Your younger sister may soon be able to access the morning-after pill, even if she’s under 18! A U.S. court ruling this week will allow 17-year-olds to obtain the pill, sold as Plan B, within a month. U.S. District Judge Edward Korma is asking the FDA to reconsider whether it should be available without any age restrictions at all.

Who knows what the world’s best doctors and scientists will discover next week? In the meantime, don’t drink too much, watch your Red Snapper intake, eat your yogurt, and keep an eye on your sister!

Wait, what? Isn’t obesity a major health concern?

Actually, the New York Times reports that “despite concerns about an obesity epidemic, there is growing evidence that our obsession about weight as a primary measure of health may be misguided.”

It seems that medical research is taking a different path down the road of health, obesity, and weight loss studies. In fact, the Archives of Internal Medicine, as referenced in the Times suggests that half of overweight people and one third of obese people are actually “metabolically healthy.”

America’s obsession with beauty and looks has long stereotyped overweight people in a negative light. However, studies such as those mentioned above are proving that in many cases, thin or underweight people are in poorer health than those with a few excess pounds. The Journal of the American Medical Association conducted fitness tests and observed mortality rates of their subjects, and discovered that “fitness level, regardless of body mass index, was the strongest predictor of mortality risk.” Therefore, skinny people blessed with a fast metabolism will still find working out to be advantageous to their health, and “big boned” individuals should not be written off as being “lazy” or “sluggish,” as stereotypes suggest.

While findings from studies covering moderate weight issues are drawing new lines between “healthy” and “unhealthy,” ironically, one of the world’s greatest medical mysteries remains the issue of morbid obesity. ABC News reports that the morbidly obese Manuel Uribe, the one-time world’s heaviest man who is now trying to break the world record for weight loss, is in good health despite his enormous weight.

“I have accumulated fat,” Manuel has stated (an understatement, in my opinion), “but I’m healthy. I don’t have sugar, cholesterol, triglycerides, diabetes or high blood pressure. My heart works perfectly fine.”

Uribe’s doctor agrees and notes, “We don’t have an explanation.” This type of morbid obesity is extreme, but can be triggered by brain chemistry, genetic mutation, or a combination of psychological issues, which is why it is so baffling to doctors and scientists.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, anorexia nervosa can cause heart problems such as palpitations (or even failure), and bulimia nervosa can cause irregular heart beat or rupturing of the stomach, along with a slew of other complications.

The bottom line, according to University of South Carolina professor Stephen Blair, is that doctors should be talking to all patients about the value of physical activity, regardless of body size.

Blair raises an excellent question in the Times article:

“Why is it such a stretch of the imagination to consider that someone overweight or obese might actually be healthy and fit?”

I know I’ll make some people angry out there, but I’ve noticed a few things about the many pre-meds I’ve come across in my time at college. This surely isn’t true of every doctor wannabe out there, but it is a lifestyle and mindset that ensares many a good student.

1. A pre-med is always the one asking “Will this be on the test?” Yup, the pre-med is always the really annoying kid in a class, ignoring the intellectual meat of any discussion. Pre-meds are fixated on performing well by the numbers, of doing well on the test and getting the A, regardless of what they get out of the course. A pre-med’s moves are often calculated just to get the grade rather than stimulate discussion.

2. A pre-med can’t stop talking about grades. “What did you get on the exam?” “What do you think the curve will be like?” “Man, I was studying ALL last night.” “I’ve got to get an A in this course if I want to go to so-and-so med school.” It can rapidly get exhausting to chat with a pre-med. They can’t stop talking about doing well on exams and actually getting into med school — their singular obsession. They don’t want to talk about literature, art, or culture. They only want to talk about themselves and that big exam coming up.

3. A pre-med is endlessly competitive. If you’re friends with pre-meds, I’ve discovered it’s best to keep your grades to yourself. They thrive on competition and they’re determined to be better than anyone else in terms of academics. GPA’s are thrown around like currency, and they’ll stop at nothing to keep that GPA high, from shamelessly sucking up to professors, to wheedling them for grade bumps. I’m just glad the majority of my classes are arty and not swarmed with these guys and gals.

4. A pre-med can’t relax and enjoy themselves. This isn’t the pre-meds’ fault. Colleges expect a tremendous amount from their pre-meds, and the competition is so fierce that I can understand why students think they have to live this obnoxiously hardcore lifestyle in order to survive. Plenty of people start out thinking they’ll be doctors and find out early on that they just can’t hack it. However, the way the system stands now, the universities reward this bad behavior with success. Rather than valuing learning for learning’s sake and really getting something out of their classes, pre-meds know that what counts is the grade, and not the content of the class. It’s a terrible cycle of competitiveness increasing obnoxiousness, which only increases the competition.

I know some pre-meds who find time to party hard and end up wasted on the weekends, but again, there’s an air of desperation and competition to their partying, as if they feel compelled to do everything just to get the requisite college experience in. Get the grades, do the bodyshots, wear the right pants, and you’ll end up getting into the right med school. When college is only a means to an end, though, it wastes four years of what could be the best time of your life.

So to pre-meds, I say relax, try and enjoy yourselves and enjoy learning a little bit more. And to friends of pre-meds, I say, try and be patient, but make sure you have other friends as well, so you won’t be constantly surrounded by that wearying talk.

Perhaps it’s time to stop blacking out/macking on totally unavailable men and start enjoying the summer days. Although, with all the crazy sh*t that went down this week (earthquakes? lumps? embarassing doctor’s appointments?) can you blame me?

Alcohol seems to be the best (and only) remedy for forgetting things I wish I never saw, getting over the fact that he didn’t call and, of course, my growing credit card bill. (I guess I should be glad I didn’t fork over the cash for that cosmetic surgery.)

Usually I would turn to music to get me through the tough times, but even that has been ruined for me.

With only 4 weeks left of summer, I better get crackin’ on finding a summer fling. It has been far too long since anyone has parked their beef bus in my tuna town. Yeah, I said it. I guess that’s what the weekend is for. Well, that and movie marathons.

Recently, a federal rule was proposed in Minnesota that would eliminate the mandate for hospitals to provide emergency contraception to rape victims. This rule would “broaden the definition of abortion to include the most widely used forms of birth control, which can prevent implantation of a fertilized egg.”

“It elaborates that the rule change would mean doctors and nurses would not have to provide information on birth control, prescriptions or give referrals to get it elsewhere. Operating room technicians would not have to clean instruments used in a surgical procedure, the proposal said.”

What dose that mean, exactly? It means that women may not be offered the medical care they seek and require because some doctors and officials let their religious and moral views get in the way of their duties as professionals.

Apparently, some hospitals didn’t like stocking Plan B (also known as the Morning After Pill) for rape victims because it was an expense they didn’t want to incur. Other doctors decided that abortions are wrong, that life starts at conception and that they would not provide abortions to women because of that.

“We don’t think medical people should be punished for acting on their deep moral convictions on that issue,” said Tom Prichard, executive director of the Minnesota Family Council.

What?!

This entire situation has me raging. Are you seriously telling me that a woman who has been raped will not be able to protect herself and her body because a hospital didn’t want to spend money? And aren’t doctors supposed to remain completely neutral when it comes to the care of a patient? Why is it up to some random person with a degree to tell me what is best for my body and my life?

This proposal is drowning in controversy and opposition, so it may be a long time before we see anything happen. But the fact that it was even brought up is enough to make me wonder just when a woman is really going to have the right to control her own body.

[Photo courtesy of ABC News]

Did you hear? Designer Vaginas were blacklisted in Australia!?

Yeah, I can’t believe it either! I mean, I am all about designer everything – bags, clothes, shoes, etc. – but I didn’t know a designer va-jay was an option! (Note: I just did some investigating and found out that this does not refer to some sort of

Louis Vuitton hoo-hah, but rather surgery to make it look prettier. Damn.)

Yeah, so basically women have been seeking out uber expensive surgery ($10,000!) to make their vaginas look more appealing. Surprisingly (pause, NOT!), some doctors are getting a little worried about this. Not only is it ridiculous to want a better lookin’ vag (let’s be honest…they aren’t the prettiest things), but the surgery is not safe and can cause long term sensitivity issues.

Um, ladies, why you so crazy? What is the point of a pretty (and overpriced) vag if you can’t enjoy it?

I’m just sayin’…

I’ve sought out emergency contraception three times since 2002. In the first part of this article, I shared the situations that got me into trouble. In this part, I’ll share how I got out, and my experiences with the pill itself.

TAKE I:

So, I find myself in trouble, due to two factors: first, the drunk and condom-free attentions of my (newly ex) boyfriend, and second, his unwillingness to deal in any way with the consequences. I solve this problem as I solve all others: by turning to lady friends and Google.

My roommate Kristin and I look up the “morning after” pill, and discover that there’s only one clinic within driving distance that prescribes it. We also discover that EC is only effective if it’s taken seventy-two hours after sex; thanks to my post-breakup moping, I have about twelve hours left. It will take two hours to reach the clinic. We scramble to the car.

When we arrive at the clinic, I am escorted into an exam room, where I meet a blonde woman in a lab coat. I explain my situation, and ask for the EC.

She shakes her head at me. I see pity in her eyes.

“I can’t prescribe those pills to you, honey,” she says. “I’m a Christian.”

This is the precise moment when I start crying.

“I don’t understand,” I say. “How can you call yourself a doctor if you refuse to prescribe your patients the medicines they need?”

She looks me straight in the eye. She says this:

“I guess you should have kept your legs together.”

TAKE II:

Given the fact that, when I last asked for EC, I was denied and called a slut by my doctor, I’m understandably anxious about heading in to a clinic with a wrinkled party dress and disastrous hair, ready to medicate away my one-night stand.

The good news: I live in New York now. This means more doctors, and more options. Because this is an emergency, I head for the closest Emergency Room.

I speak to three people before I’m admitted to a doctor. Three times do I state that I need EC. Three times do I request STD testing. I begin to suspect that this whole process is an elaborate test. They’re probably pulling in janitors and security guards from the hall, just to see how many times they can get me to relate my sexual history to a stranger.

Finally, I meet the doctor. She gives me every test in the book, answers every question, describes every potential side effect of EC (breast pain, headaches, puking) and writes me a doctor’s note so that I can stay home the next day. This woman: she is a saint. Praise her.

I get every side effect in the book, and more, but I also get my period by the end of the week. Plus, I’ve survived the whole ordeal without being called a whore. This is an improvement.

TAKE III:

Did you know that you can get EC without a prescription now? I did not! This is why I now have ER bills. However, thanks to lady friends and Google, I now know that Planned Parenthood will hand over Plan B, no questions asked, for $30. So, upon finding myself once again up the creek, I head directly to PP.

I’m there before the doors open. When I get through those doors, however, I find myself passing through a metal detector.

“Pass over your bag for inspection. Anything metal in your pockets, take it out,” says the security guard. “Cell phones, keys, change, weapons, take them out.”

This is creepy. It reminds me that people have died for my right to be here. Yet, despite the fact that people want to blow them up, the Planned Parenthood staff are sweeter and more efficient than any doctors I’ve dealt with yet. The visit is over in ten minutes.

Plan B, again, feels like getting hit by the Hormone Delivery Truck. My chest aches, my head aches, and I’m constantly on the verge of crying or blowing chunks. Yet my period, which I can usually predict down to the hour, just will not come. EC is not 100% effective, and I’m faced with the fact that it may have failed.

When my period comes, several days late, I have to repress the urge to sing it a love song. I also realize that it’s time to go to Planned Parenthood for birth control pills. Grateful though I am for Plan B, I never want to need it again.

CONCLUSIONS:

This is the thing: you have a body, and, if you know how it works, you can take care of it. If you don’t, then you’re in trouble – and that trouble only increases over time.

My first two experiences with Plan B were harsh because I didn’t understand enough about the pill (hence the fact that I took too long to seek it out when I first needed it) and because I didn’t know a reliable place to find it (hence my bigoted doctor nightmare, and my expensive trip to the ER). My knowledge of birth control extended as far as going to CVS for condoms.

Yet my ignorance, though vast, is nothing compared to that of my first doctor – who is a textbook example of what can happen if you stay too satisfied with what little you know, and refuse to educate yourself further. People like that are the reason that the rest of us have to fight to spread knowledge about sex, its consequences, and how best to prevent them.

I’m going to assume that you’re smarter than I was, or at least more well-informed. But, if you do live in the kind of darkness that gives rise to monsters, be the first to break out. Look into your options. Stay well-informed. Share what you know, however you can. Lady friends and Google, I hear, are good places to start.

Before I delve into how much oral activity went on last night (on the show of course), the beginning of Nip/Tuck was utterly horrifying. Dr. MacNamara’s new leading lady sh*t herself in his hot tub and was from that point referred to as “the sh*tter.”

Is it just me or does this girl seem way too unworthy of dating such a hot doctor? I don’t care that she used to be fat. I don’t mind that she has some intimacy issues. What bothers me is that her personality sucks. What does he see in her? Especially now that she’s literally sh*t all over him. Uh, so gross. I did however find all of the poop talk hilarious.

My prediction is that MacNamara dumps her and gets it on with Eden, lesbian Olivia’s overly sexual daughter, who’s hair is out of control. And side note: Is this chick for real? I mean what is she? A teen dominatrix? You’d think she were a tease, but I’m seriously doubt it.

Now on to the oral. GOOD LORD, what a variety. First we have the sh*tter giving Dr. Mac a BJ. Then we have Olivia going down on Julia. And last, but I’m sure not least, Kimber and Matt giving us a full on oral sex show after they smoked crack. And while we’re on the subject of these two, I was like “WHAT?!” when I watched this scene.

Their poor baby.

Above all, I think one of the highlights of the episode was when Julia slept with Christian. I know I was probably as shocked as him when she flat out said she did him to be done with him. Dude, you. Got. Served.

Now that the whole MacNamara/Troy family is back together again, we are all in for some crazy ass drama. God, I love this show.