A Sign From God
It's all a sign from God, I tell you. Today after my doctor's appointment was fucked, and I was taken to be a gender bender/transsexual at Ross's, I really think he's trying to tell me I was meant to be born a man. Maybe this is the reasoning behind my male name? Oh the joys of sexual confusion.
So, four weeks ago when we made the motherfucking appointment, they told us that it was on Monday, March 5th, 2:20 PM. Ok, so we mark it on the calender when we get home. Two weeks ago, we call to confirm and they say yes, it is on Monday, March 5th, 2:20 PM. Ok, so we check the calender to make sure it's right once again. We go through all of this because this is one of the best doctors who specialize in PCOS in California, and it takes months to get in to see him. I was lucky that they had an open spot so soon because someone cancelled, so we have this appointment made. Five days ago we call a third time to confirm, once again, that my appointment is on Monday, March 5th, 2:20 PM. My mom had to change her work schedule around so she could take me and all that shit, and we finally get it worked out so I can go and hopefully get the diagnosis I need so I can start treatment.
Well, at 2:00 we arrive at the office complex and we get to room 220 (oh the irony) and are in there talking to one of the desk workers. We tell her that we've arrived and are ready to start the paperwork. A minute later, she comes out and announces that I have no appointment on Monday, March 5th, at 2:20 PM. My appointment is on Wednesday, March 7th, 10:30 AM. I'm pissed, no I'm beyond piss, I'm royally fucking flaming pissed. I wait this whole fucking time to get in to see this doctor, check the appointment time twice after the initial scheduling, and come to find that what they told us was wrong. On top of that, the doctor isn't even in on Mondays! WHAT THE BLOODY HELL WENT WRONG?! It seems someone would have noticed that we had made an appointment with a doctor who wasn't in the office on Mondays. But no, they are all fucking imbeciles who fucked over my entire week. Because of this little fiasco, I lost two whole days of study, which I was counting on to finish my World History and Algebra homework. Ok, so now I have to bust my ass to finish up this homework. On top of that, I don't even know if I will be able to make the appointment on March 7th, so now I might have to wait until fucking May 27th. This means, that I have to suffer from constant headaches, periods every ten days, severe mood swings, and a weight gain roller coaster for another two fucking months. Great, just my luck, eh?
But wait, it gets better. As my mom and I are sitting in the car, deciding what to do with our wasted day, we decide to go shopping. I need more jeans, and she needs more dress clothes for work. So we go to Ross's. Well, while we are there I find almost nothing. There is a single pair of jeans that look okay that I figure I might as well try on because they are only 12 bucks and if they fit then hey it's one more pair of jeans that I really need. Now, at the moment I'm dressed in a pair of my brother's jeans, one of his shirts, and a leather aviator-style cap. My hair isn't very long, just brushing my shoulders, but still I knew I looked a little more masculine. I figured I looked like a tomboy, which really, I kind of am. Anyways, back to the story. I get up to the dressing room attendant and she gives me the little plastic card with the '1' on it. I turn left and as I'm walking into the women's dressing room, the woman calls 'Sir, the men's changing rooms are on the right'. I whip around, thinking a man is behind me, but no, she's staring right at me. Finally, she realizes her mistake and apologizes profusely while I go about my merry way and change into jeans that turn out to be too big. Now, that should have been an ego booster, except for the fact that with all of the excess material in front it made me look like I had a fucking hard on.
All of this I interperet as God's sick way of saying 'Hey, you were supposed to be born a man. Sorry I fucked up and gave you a vagina instead. But hey kid, perk up, at least you can pull off that manly look.' The one good thing about today? Mother dearest has finally realized that I've started cussing, and she has no room to talk because when a deer ran in front of our car she screamed 'fuck' at the top of her lungs. So, when I said 'hypocracy' she shut up and let me have my way when I screamed 'shit' as I fell flat on my ass while unloading an alfalfa bale. But, of course, this small revelation still came at my expense. Lovely, eh?
So, four weeks ago when we made the motherfucking appointment, they told us that it was on Monday, March 5th, 2:20 PM. Ok, so we mark it on the calender when we get home. Two weeks ago, we call to confirm and they say yes, it is on Monday, March 5th, 2:20 PM. Ok, so we check the calender to make sure it's right once again. We go through all of this because this is one of the best doctors who specialize in PCOS in California, and it takes months to get in to see him. I was lucky that they had an open spot so soon because someone cancelled, so we have this appointment made. Five days ago we call a third time to confirm, once again, that my appointment is on Monday, March 5th, 2:20 PM. My mom had to change her work schedule around so she could take me and all that shit, and we finally get it worked out so I can go and hopefully get the diagnosis I need so I can start treatment.
Well, at 2:00 we arrive at the office complex and we get to room 220 (oh the irony) and are in there talking to one of the desk workers. We tell her that we've arrived and are ready to start the paperwork. A minute later, she comes out and announces that I have no appointment on Monday, March 5th, at 2:20 PM. My appointment is on Wednesday, March 7th, 10:30 AM. I'm pissed, no I'm beyond piss, I'm royally fucking flaming pissed. I wait this whole fucking time to get in to see this doctor, check the appointment time twice after the initial scheduling, and come to find that what they told us was wrong. On top of that, the doctor isn't even in on Mondays! WHAT THE BLOODY HELL WENT WRONG?! It seems someone would have noticed that we had made an appointment with a doctor who wasn't in the office on Mondays. But no, they are all fucking imbeciles who fucked over my entire week. Because of this little fiasco, I lost two whole days of study, which I was counting on to finish my World History and Algebra homework. Ok, so now I have to bust my ass to finish up this homework. On top of that, I don't even know if I will be able to make the appointment on March 7th, so now I might have to wait until fucking May 27th. This means, that I have to suffer from constant headaches, periods every ten days, severe mood swings, and a weight gain roller coaster for another two fucking months. Great, just my luck, eh?
But wait, it gets better. As my mom and I are sitting in the car, deciding what to do with our wasted day, we decide to go shopping. I need more jeans, and she needs more dress clothes for work. So we go to Ross's. Well, while we are there I find almost nothing. There is a single pair of jeans that look okay that I figure I might as well try on because they are only 12 bucks and if they fit then hey it's one more pair of jeans that I really need. Now, at the moment I'm dressed in a pair of my brother's jeans, one of his shirts, and a leather aviator-style cap. My hair isn't very long, just brushing my shoulders, but still I knew I looked a little more masculine. I figured I looked like a tomboy, which really, I kind of am. Anyways, back to the story. I get up to the dressing room attendant and she gives me the little plastic card with the '1' on it. I turn left and as I'm walking into the women's dressing room, the woman calls 'Sir, the men's changing rooms are on the right'. I whip around, thinking a man is behind me, but no, she's staring right at me. Finally, she realizes her mistake and apologizes profusely while I go about my merry way and change into jeans that turn out to be too big. Now, that should have been an ego booster, except for the fact that with all of the excess material in front it made me look like I had a fucking hard on.
All of this I interperet as God's sick way of saying 'Hey, you were supposed to be born a man. Sorry I fucked up and gave you a vagina instead. But hey kid, perk up, at least you can pull off that manly look.' The one good thing about today? Mother dearest has finally realized that I've started cussing, and she has no room to talk because when a deer ran in front of our car she screamed 'fuck' at the top of her lungs. So, when I said 'hypocracy' she shut up and let me have my way when I screamed 'shit' as I fell flat on my ass while unloading an alfalfa bale. But, of course, this small revelation still came at my expense. Lovely, eh?