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THAT Primary Six School Nurse Visit
Tuesday, July 22
 Remember that school nurse visit you had when you were in Primary 6? You know, the one where they inflicted that awful BCG scar on your arm, and where they made you take off your clothes?
It seems like most people had to take off their clothes in front of a doctor or nurse, although some seemed to have escaped this part.
For those who missed it, what the doctor was looking for was how developed you were, relating to puberty. To check whether you were growing nice fluffy hair in places where the sun doesn't shine, developing deep sexy voices, budding breasts, growing longer in more ways than one, and other assorted things. I THINK.
Then they treat you like cattle and give you a grade from 1-5 on your puberty. 1 being 'Very Poor' and 5 being 'Well Done!'. OK seriously, 1 would mean not having started on puberty and 5 would be fully developed or something close to that, if I remember correctly.
Or maybe it was really 'Very Poor' and 'Well Done'.
***
I was on the train this afternoon, on my way to work when I overheard these teenage girls from a certain girls' school sharing excitedly and animatedly on this particular experience. No I wasn't eavesdropping on purpose, they were loud. Really. REALLY!
Anyway, they were discussing what they had on under their pinafores at that time. One was happy she had on a pair of shorts, another was terrified that she only had her panties on. The one who had shorts on subsequently demonstrated how she was 'inspected' by mimicking the undoing of a ribbon and pulling down on an imaginary waistband. And then how she lifted her bra. Girls these days are still pretty decent huh?
Well, if you're interested in some unnecessary information, I had only underwear on too! No shorts! They made us all take off whatever shorts we had! Nobody wears boxers at that age. They're actually bigger than your nice little tight primary school shorts and stick out. And you don't have much of a package at that age anyway.
We were all shepherded into a cold air conditioned room, naked, with only our underwear for warmth and modesty.
"Do you have hair THERE?", I whispered solemnly to the boy next to me.
"Umm, some." he replied nervously after some hesitation. We both bore serious expressions on our faces. I suppose we were afraid the nurse would scream and call the police if she found out we had hair THERE.
We were arranged by height, and one by one, we went behind that nondescript green curtain. We could see the legs of every boy, and we snickered when a poor boy's underwear dropped at his feet. That snickering was just a facade though, covering up our nervously beating young hearts.
So it got to my turn. I got up, and walked quickly behind that awful green curtain.
Behind the curtain were two people. Both females. One, the doctor, and two, a grouchy old nurse. The doctor gave a small hint of a smile, and then asked me to bend over for a while. I bent over apprehensively, fearing the worst, but she surprised me when she asked me to straighten up after a short while. I didn't know what she was trying to do then - I only realised she was probably checking the backbone a few years later.
"Take off your underwear," came those dreaded words.
Nervously, I did as I was told. My underwear dropped to my feet. I could hear the snickering from the other boys behind the curtain. Oh the embarrassment! If I thought that was bad, what came after was worse.
She (the doctor) reached out a cold, thin hand and touched me THERE.
I didn't know why she had to do this disgusting, despicable act. At age 12, what did you do to suffer this ignominy? 10 years on, most guys probably have a slightly different warped view on a girl touching you THERE, but let's not go there.
Removing her hand, she asked me to turn to my side, take a few deep breaths, and cough a few times. All the while looking at me THERE.
As with the bending over, I didn't know why I was being asked to do all these weird perverted acts. Somewhere down the years I read up about hernia in an encyclopedia.
"OK, you can wear back your underwear, and you can go."
Shamed, I pulled my underwear back up and walked gingerly from behind the curtain. Imploring faces from those that were waiting their turn wanted to know what she made me do, but none had the balls (or hair) to ask. In another corner of the room sat the boys who had gone behind that green curtain, heads bowed, red-faced, silent and huddled. I went over and sat down with them.
***
I don't know what they did to the girls behind there, because the few accounts I've heard are sketchy and varied, although similarly embarrassing I'm sure. It's like a covert military operation, where the girls are all spies. You'll only get it out of them after going through some brutal torturing process.
"WHAT HAPPENED BEHIND THE CURTAIN?!"
"I'm not saying! Oooww!"
"SAY IT!"
"I'm not going to betray my fellow female comrades! Arggggf!"
This event has become almost a taboo subject in our primary school life, for many stripping in front of a complete stranger for the very first time. Nobody ever talks about it, nobody wants to talk about it.
Well, I don't how many people or who still pops by here these days, but talk about it! Anonymously if you want to. Share your experience in the comments!
Bad Man
Thursday, July 17
Today, on the way back from lunch, I walked past a group of primary school children.
When I went past them, I overheard one of them whispering:
"You see that man hair so long. Must be bad man."
Well I never!
Difference between Jurong East and Jurong West
Friday, July 11
The lovely countryside called Jurong East is inhabited by lots of locals. There are nice fields and lush greenery, lakes, flooding everywhere. There is a nice rickety little village mall called Jurong Entertainment Centre. There are no modern malls - IMM is in the middle of nowhere, so it can't be under Jurong East.
The town of Jurong West is urban however, with the modern megamall Jurong Point, parks, canals, whatever. Also, a crucial difference is that we have people from many countries.
There are workers from India! Bangladesh! Sri Lanka! China! Malaysia! Thailand!
The convenience shop near my place is fully run by people from Myanmar!
Filipinos staff stores in Jurong Point!
My neighbours are from Hong Kong!
There are numerous Indonesian domestic helpers!
Jurong West is, I dare say, cosmopolitan.
Take that Jurong East! Ok la at least your place doesn't turn into Little India during the weekends.
In a rather unrelated piece of useless information, why do people frequently ask whether I'm foreign? Most of the time they think I'm Malaysian. Why?
Short note
Monday, July 7
I've been receiving some er, obscene questions from the question asking thing in my mail, but thank you anyway :)
Go on! Spam some more!
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