In addition to the general uncomfortableness of poking around my girlybits, this was also with the doctor that I dislike. This doctor is dead convinced that I am anorexic and that I lie about how much I eat.
Anyone who has actually watched me have a meal can probably attest that I'm not anorexic. Like. At all.
She's trying to get me to go off the Aderall entirely and I'm like... no. I'm probably gonna wean myself off of it this summer and try to deal without it for graduate school, but not now god damn it.
I am not anorexic. I am just thin. Deal with it, lady. And I already try to eat four meals a day if I can (... this doesn't happen as often as I'd like orz), and barring that I eat pretty damn high calorie, high protein foods. I just don't exercise enough because I'm freakin lazy.
I hate it that she does this to me every time. I'm already really self-conscious about how thin I am. It makes me feel like some kind of freak, like I'm a goddamn skeleton or something. I don't WANT to be this thin, I didn't ASK to be this thin, thank you, and don't make me feel like there's something seriously wrong with me because of it, jesus.
And then I had the lovely scare of the lab tech going "huh, there's trace amounts of blood in your urine."
Yeah, apparently. Not a visible quantity, but enough that they seem concerned. Great. Just great.