Regarding yesterday's post:
Don't get me wrong, the prospect of menopause isn't something I embrace (after all, look what it is doing to me). Practically speaking, knowing I'll never have children makes me really sad. It's something I looked forward to literally all my life. I wanted to be part of a happy and stable family that I haven't known yet.
I didn't have a choice about my complete inability to find someone who would love me, and at my age I'm not going to risk age-related problems for a child I brought into the world alone out of sheer selfishness. So... I don't need a medical professional to get on his high horse and tell me I am imagining the rampant changes happening to me. I know. Even my hairdresser has noticed.
So, duh, doc. I've never really thought a male doctor was capable of understanding female bodies properly anyway, let alone a colorblind one who is incredibly judgmental of single women even having reproductive organs. He thinks only married women should be allowed to utilize girly parts.
He'll never know what hormone imbalances feel like unless he starts to need a bra and a girdle. He can't even empathize. Well, empathy isn't required to be a doctor anyway. Apparently all one needs is a Jack the Ripper attitude and a nurse to tell you when they see telltale colors denoting infections and organs you're not supposed to be cutting on.