There's something about childbirth that forces a woman to forgo all sense of modesty.
After all, there's usually a room full of people all focused on a part of your anatomy that normally isn't on display.
In my case, with the Drama King, there were people with their HANDS in places that they had no business being -- trying to help a 9 pound 2 1/2 ounce baby who wasn't planning on getting out the way he got in.
When the Roo-girl was born, my pediatrician was in the room. He was quite a bit younger than me (a whippersnapper barely out of residency when Drummer and DK were little and we joined his practice), and it never even occurred to me that he had a view of my nether regions that he NEVER would have seen otherwise. I mean, seriously!
But you don't think too much about it. You're having a baby, after all, and that's where babies come from.
So no biggie.
Many many years later, when degeneratively arthritic vertebrae cause pain that isn't restricted to just the back, and one of the answers is physical therapy ...
And you find yourself face-down on a table with your pants pulled down below the crack and a male massage therapist with his hands on your butt ...
Well, the indignity of it all is astounding.