Ok. Now picture him in a doctor's white jacket. Make his face a little thinner. His hair a little floppier and greasier. Picture every gesture with very swishy flamboyant movement. Picture a swishy hipped walk. That was the gyno that I visited yesterday. Seriously. I couldn't make this shit up if I tries.
Now picture that he doesn't bother to look at me for the entire consultation, prefering to stare at his clipboard and write on it.
Now pretend you are me and you want to tell this guy 2 things: you think your synthetic hormones are making you totally whack and you think you have an infection down there. You say that you are thinking about stopping the birth control pills to detox. His response, "Well, that's your choice." Yes, jackass, I know that. I was just trying to get a medical opinion on my options before I exercise my right to choose. Jackass. Then, poking me in my special place, "Well, I don't see any signs of infection." Really? You can't see the scratch marks that I've made on myself? That's just great. Blind and incapable of hearing. Perfect.
So the jackass sent me home with some cream "just in case I'm beginning to get an infection", you know, in the area that has itched for approximately 4 months now and a new perscription for birth control that "if it doesn't work out, give us a call in 3 months". Now I don't know how many of you have tried a birth control pill that "didn't work out", but I have, and I and all the people around me will be lucky to be in one piece if that is what goes down.
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