We’re in a professional setting 

Time is ticking like always 

If I were writing an essay, Annoying would be the heading 

Knocking on each door is like turning a page 

Waiting to hear what people will say 

When I’m the examiner 

Being examined 

Your thoughts about my blouse 

Are better off in your mind than mouth

No, I’m not a planner – when it comes to fashion 

Why are we even talking about my physique, I’m askin’?

You may think words like cute and adorable are flattering 

But I find them maddening 

I hate to play this card but would you use them for the 60-year-old male physician treating you?

No, you wouldn’t, so can it be through?

My necklace?

My complexion?

Oh, you don’t find it speckless?

My life choices have all fallen under your inspection

And of course you didn’t forget about my hair 

Inside I yell that none of this is fair 

Because we’re not at a museum

No, we’re at the doctor’s office 

And I won’t bring any of your matters up unless you do 

Or unless your blood pressure or your weight or your diet is killing you 

Maybe you were an inspection agent in your former days 

But nitpicking a professional woman on the job is out of place 

My one-up comeback is to always circle back – to you

Why I’m here, why we’re here 

Like two lost characters in a forest – they both disappeared 

So you know what?

To spite them all I’ll cut my hair short

And wear a black shirt and black pants, even a sweater 

Because if I were Tyra Banks or Hiedi Klum you still wouldn’t like me any better 

And reality is that 

I’ll align my beliefs with those facts 

To you we’ll always circle back
The patient 

In this impossible gradient of primary care 

As I do my job and people stare 

Maybe we should all go to psychiatry 

Because all the criticism is enlightening