This is so in the movie
Shming, my best friend of fourteen years, bless her heart, has not had sexual relations in a painfully long time. We’re not talking months; we're talking years. I won't even say how many years, but it's more than 3 and less than 5.
Shming went to the doctor yesterday because she'd been feeling inexplicably dizzy and on the brink of hurling for the last five days. The physician's assistant came into the examining room and talked to her. He posed the question she dreads every time she goes for an annual physical.
"Any chance you might be pregnant?"
"No." Shming answered.
"Are you sure?"
"Um, yeah. Believe me. Unless it was the Immaculate Conception, there's no chance."
"We might have to give you a rectal," the p.a. said.
"Are you joking?"
"No. We should figure out what's going on in your stomach. The doctor will come in and either she or someone else will do the procedure. Let me go find out."
"Wait," Shming said. "Is this gonna be like where you go out there and say 'Someone's gotta do a rectal in Exam 4' and then everyone else is like 'I did it last time', 'I’m about to go on my break', 'if you do this one, I promise I’ll do it next time', 'I just ate, I’m not doing it'...?"
"No," the pa said. "It’s not like that."
"It is on ‘ER’"
"Yeah, well. This ain't 'ER’"
The assistant left and the doctor came in. Again, Shming explained the funky feelings she'd been having.
"Might you be pregnant?" the doctor asked.
"No." Shming said.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. I am sure."
"Have you considered the possibility that you might be?"
"I’m not."
"Did you use protection or did he pull out?"
"What?" Shming said. "When was he ever in? Who is he? Do you have his number?"
