From Cosmopolitan, June 2007, p. 58, headline: "Gyno Uh-Oh!":
"I had scheduled my gyno appointment for right after work and didn't have time to take a shower beforehand. So I ran home quickly to freshen up. I shed my clothes, grabbed a bottle of perfume, and spritzed my V zone generously before getting dressed again. When I arrived at the doctor's office, I put on the gown and got on the examining table. When my gynecologist lifted up the paper gown, I heard her chuckle quietly. I gave her a weird look, and she said, 'Fancy!' I figured she was just referring to my Brazilian wax, but when I got home, I realized I had mistaken my glitter body spray for perfume. My nether region was covered in multicolored sparkles!"
Well don't that just sound familiar!
I heard a story that has all the markings of a legend. It was told by my aunt, a Maryland resident, who claimed to have heard it from her daughter, who lives near San Francisco and insisted that it actually happened to a "friend of a friend." It goes like this: A young woman returned from her annual visit to her gynecologist in a state of some humiliation. She almost tearfully recounted to her roommate (another woman, it seems) that when the doctor viewed her in the awful position women must achieve on the examining table, he exclaimed, "Fancy!! Faaannnnncyyy!!" She reported she was too embarrassed to ask what inspired the outburst and just skulked away after the exam. Her roommate asked if he'd ever acted weird like that before and was assured that he certainly hadn't — he was the soul of discretion. She next asked her distraught friend if she had done anything different in preparation for her exam. "No, not at all. Well, I did borrow some of your feminine hygiene spray." She gestured to an aerosol can on the dresser. "That's not feminine spray! It's glitter spray for my hair!" Fancy, alright.
When asked about the similarities, a Hearst spokeswoman responded via email:
Cosmo receives hundreds of submissions for Cosmo Confessions each month, and because we allow readers to remain anonymous in order to protect the innocent (and guilty!), these confessions aren't always easy to fact check.
Or, you know, Google. —Doree