I want you to picture a 12-year-old girl. A 12-year-old girl who still feels awkward about her body, freaks out about talking to anyone—especially the boys she’s crushing on—and has a habit of hanging around the adults rather than her own peers. She’s an assuming tween whose biggest innocence-loss came from watching "Mean Girls" in the fourth grade.

One day, she’s having stomach pain, so her parents take her to the afterhours care that doctor’s office used to offer. They check her in and eventually take her back.

They take her weight, check her blood pressure and temperature before the ask the question: “Are you pregnant?” which either came before or after the dreaded, “When was your last period?” question.

The girls says no, her parents say no, but they still do a urine test anyway.

Eventually the doctor comes back and says, “You’re not pregnant,” to the 12-year-old girl as if she should be relieved. As if there might be a slight bit of doubt that she would be.

There wasn’t. That girl was me. This is a true story and I’m sure I’m not the only one who’s had to deal with something like this from their doctors.

I won’t say that all 12-year-old girls were like me and not having sex—if they were, then that question wouldn’t be brought up. But starting at a young age, girls are treated as if their uterus is a ticking time bomb set to dispense babies any second like .25 cent gum balls.

When I had to have two surgeries this year, I was once again faced with those two questions mentioned before. Like with the 12-year-olds, this question is a question that must be asked because someone who is pregnant undergoing surgery could risk serious damage to the baby or to her. That’s not the part that has the “I am woman” coming out in me; it’s the way the doctors and other medical professions approach it.

They ask the question with judgement, immediately assuming that you’ve got a bun in the oven. That because you are a woman, that therefore you are dumb and do not know how to not get pregnant. It’s almost like they want you to be so that they can dole out the news and see the surprise on your face, because when they do eventually give the news that you’re not, they almost seem disappointed. They say it dismissively, nearly scoffing, as they say those three words, “You’re not pregnant,” or four, “the test is negative,” and all you want to do is lift your hands into the air and yell, “Well, duh!”

I’m not sure when it became OK for the doctors to judge you, rather than treating you, simply because you’re a woman. When did their first assumption when your stomach hurts—at as young as 12 years old—become that you must be pregnant? When did they begin assuming that the blood test or urine test they take is going to be positive? When did they just generally decide it was OK to downplay women’s symptoms as the cause being simply that they’re just being a woman?

I have no doubt that there have been tons of cases where there are women who do test positive, but I’m not one of those tons, and I doubt that a lot of people are. I’ll bet that the many outweigh the few. I’ve never minded that those questions are answered or tests are taken, but the doctors need to learn to do so without assuming the worst and without giving an attitude when they reveal the answer.

When they do this, they’re knocking out what’s easiest, sure. But how many times do they knock out what’s easiest, rather than using the symptoms to lead to their conclusion? How many times do we sit in one of the rooms, in pain, waiting for the results to a test that we know for sure will come back positive? How many times do we walk away from a doctor’s appointment feeling like our sickness is all in our head or just a trial our body must face?

Guys, if you don’t get where I’m coming from, let’s say you go into the emergency room. You’ve got pain in your back, side, groin, etc. How would you feel if the doctors automatically assumed kidney stones each time, rather than considering other possibilities first? Probably doesn’t sound like a trip to Disney Land.

So my intentions are this: future doctors and medical professionals, please take note and consider the pregnancy route because you have to, but do not be a jerk about it because someday your 12-year-old daughter will be sitting on the examination table being asked if she’s pregnant and you’ll be outraged.

And women, know your bodies. Don’t let the doctor know your body for you. Don’t let them assume that because you’re a women, you deserve a prolonged treatment with some serious attitude.