I am a woman!!!So why don't gynecologists organize competitions so that it is at least interesting? I mean, while you're lying there with your legs spread out to the world, why not shake things up with a touch of frivolity? Counting the holes in the ceiling tiles or counting how many kilometers until it reaches China or how many organs will still be intact? Ever since the first cavewoman squatted in childbirth, submitting to the humiliation of inspection has appeared in the female consciousness as a unifying force capable of exploding in pent-up rage. Women have been prodded, probed, scrutinized, cleansed, felt up, pregnant, penetrated and groped since the dawn of civilization. Based on the information I've gathered over my years of thriving womanhood, the paradigm should be shifting at least as much as breasts are toward gravity. I'm not alone. In locker rooms, sorority dorms, at Tupperware parties, and at PTA meetings, sisterhood was built on the collective misery caused by the dysfunctions and failures of the female anatomy. I've heard stories that would send television producers scrambling for a time slot to resurrect "Queen for a Day." Who wouldn't be moved by this woman from Syracuse who felt like she had the flu: no energy, back pain and stomach cramps? To her surprise, she delivered a nine-pound baby boy on the simonized kitchen floor of her double-wide mobile home. It's the flu. Perhaps now there is a scientific name for it (so the condition can be recognized by WADA for possible funding). Something like Haagen-Daz syndrome or pickle could help these women and their doctors tell the difference between the flu and pregnancy. Then there's the Des Moines woman who, at age 75, gave birth to triplets and then sued her doctor for malpractice. The birth control pills he prescribed for her were not in the right dosage. So say his lawyers. This goes on and on. The sponsors of the show could give away huge prizes ranging from a year's worth of sanitary napkins to a gross amount of Midol. The grand prize, after the Battle of the Bulge, might be a trip to the Smithsonian Institution to view gynecological instruments from the period of America's western expansion. It would boost the morale of the most distended and distraught among us. Nothing builds solidarity like good old problems. Women, accused of being distracted by their instincts, tend to follow the misfortunes of their sisters..