So I donated blood today.

Overall, it wasn't as bad as I had expected.

Before donating I was required to stuff down a bagel and a bottle of Poland spring, and I did that in about ten minutes. Guess what, water was actually much harder to finish than the bagel.

Giving blood hurts. And that's probably it. The worst thing is that they asked you to squeeze every five seconds in order to let the blood flow faster. The needle alone hurts already, and squeezing every five seconds is like asking you to consciously decide to yourself every five seconds. But luckily mine whole donating process only took like about 5 minutes. I heard some people were there for 15 min because of narrow veins of something. And then they had to apply cold packs and stuffs because it took them so long. Mine was pretty fast. So I'm glad.

I saw people looking really tired and dizzy after giving blood. I was prepared to get dizzy, faint, or anything because I had fainted twice before (once while standing another time while watching a kid getting stitches)....so I carefully monitored my conscious level during the process. And it didn't change. I felt the same way before and after donating one pint of blood. wow. ok, maybe slightly lightheaded, but just SLIGHTLY. I mean, it's one pint of blood.

So, after being a heroine for the rest of day, disappointment comes when I start calling my parents. I wanted to do this secretly in the beginning, but I didn't remember my social security number so I had to tell my mother. I called her again in the afternoon but her attitude was really cold and uncaring, as usual. I actually called because I want to know if she's feeling better but oh well. So I am still left with the option of not telling my dad but I called him anyway before that is how I've been for the past seventeen years--I always tell my parents what I do. So, interestingly, however frequently he had described ME as an psychotically over-sensitive and suspicious person, he himself immediately took my informing him of what I did today as bragging to him that he was wrong, as going against his will. Yes I went against his will, but I wasn't trying to say "HAHA, you see? I didn't faint as you suspected. Loser." Again back to what I've been saying a few days ago, I hate people trying to guess what I think, especially when they are wrong and frequently wrong.

I went against my parents' will because I don't want to regret. If I don't do it this year, the regret is going to grow and grow and become an emotional burden on me. I want to know my blood type as well.

But oh well, at least now I can freely wear the "superhero" t-shirt.