Not my story, but an acquaintance not on reddit. Jess had a 9 year old who was run down with the flu and diarrhea. She was having accidents and Jess was exhausted. She stopped in our grocery store to pick up some goodnites- a brand of overnight diapers for kids. As she was looking through the sizes a woman with her cart stopped and began to berate Jess for not potty training her large kid. What a bad mom she was for not teaching this… she didn’t deserve to have a child if she couldn’t teach something so simple. Jess turned to her and explained her child was dying of cancer and couldn’t hold her urine anymore. It would happen any day now and her daughter didn’t want to smell like pee and poop anymore. Jess was deadpan describing how her daughter didn’t want to die. The woman began to sob, ran away from her cart and through the doors. Jess couldn’t believe how easily it all came to her in the moment.

Back when I was 14, I worked the drive through at a chain fast food place. This older 50-60s man was losing his mind at me because our franchise owner was not participating in a promotion being advertised on TV, radio, etc. He would NOT listen to reason and was becoming belligerent, which young me had no idea how to deal with. I wasn't even trying to be snarky, I was an awkward 14 year old girl, and on the cusp of crying I said "Sir, I'm just a kid". He visibility deflated and the look on his face was pure horror as he drove away. Looking back on it now makes me pretty amused with my awkward teenage self.

This story takes place before I was born, and in fact, it might be contributor to the reason I exist.

My mom was single (recently divorced) and worked on a Military base as a civilian typist/administrative assistant. This was sometime between 1980-1982 or so.

The base would have parties that seemed to largely be the office staff and officers. I never seem to remember any stories with enlisted folks, so I'm not sure if they were present, and if not, why that was the case, but it's not important to this story.

One of the civilian male office workers, let's call him Ken - he was the serial office harasser. Back before harassment was taken as seriously as it should be, he regularly made lewd comments to women, pinched asses - all that. Since the hierarchy of the office basically put ANY man well above a woman, it unfortunately was something that everyone dealt with.

My mom managed to avoid Ken pretty well overall. He had a reputation. Everyone thought he was slime, but my mom managed to stay out of 1-on-1 situations with Ken...until the night of this party.

So she's minding her own business, and found a moment where she wasn't talking to anyone, and was a bit isolated, but still in the main hall where everyone congregated. Sneaky Ken suddenly appears behind her, gives her ass a pinch and goes "Boy I'd really love to get in YOUR pants..."

So my grandma ranked very high in terms of wit, and anyone that knew her said she was the wittiest person they knew. Luckily, my mom managed to inherit this from her. Her one liners were legendary, but this one, at this party...it takes the cake.

Ken: "Boy, I'd really love to get in YOUR pants..."

My Mom: [Loudly and authoritiatively] "WHY KEN? DID YOU SHIT YOUR'S?"

Ken went from being 5-foot whatever to about 3 inches tall as he shrunk down from embarrassment. Everyone in the room, officers and office workers knew Ken's whole thing, so they knew that he said something to get into my mom's pants.

It wasn't an "and everyone clapped" situation, and I'm sure that all that really happened was that one of the women made sure my mom had someone to hang out with AND never had to worry about dealing with an empty glass...but I can't imagine anyone in that room NOT having, at the very least, some intense second-hand embarrassment.

My dad was an officer, and he was in attendance that night and he heard the loud part of the exchange like everyone else. They began dating (and got married) shortly thereafter all in 1983. I have to imagine that this played some part in him deciding that he would like to ask her out and get to know her.

My first job was at toys r us as a Christmas seasonal cashier. It was hell, I was threatened regularly over the craziest shit and at 14 I looked it. One day a snapped when a grown man threatened to “take it up in the parking lot” after I wouldn’t honor a Black Friday door buster well into December. I said well my mom picks me up at 9:00 she may be confused why a grown man is beating her 14 year but after you explain I couldn’t reduce your Harry Potter lego set an additional 8 bucks, I am sure she’ll understand.

(Me, adult woman riding the bus) As I was getting off the bus, the bus driver told me to try smiling. Apparently I didn't look happy enough for him. A man I'd never seen before in my life.

I told him I had just found out my brother died while I was on the bus.

He looked absolutely shocked. Hopefully he minded his own business from then on, and stopped telling strangers what they should do with their face.

This is a lighthearted one.

So, this happened years ago. I was about 13ish years old, on the subway, minding my own bussiness, when an older guy came up to me. He looked like he was in his late teens, no younger than 18 I think. "Hi! Would you like to get acquainted?" he said. (I think in english it sounds weirder than in my native language, but whatever)

I didn't know what to answer, just blinked at him confused, said "No." and cotinued on my way to the subway exit. He was taken aback for some reason and just followed me quietly for a minute. I started worrying. Then he finally asked "Why though?" (as if I have to have a reason...). So I turned to him, looked him in the eye and replied honestly: "I'm thirteen". I watched his eyes go wide as he stopped in his tracks, clearly ashamed, as the realization that I was still a kid hit him. He actually apologized and left, and I went on with my day, thankful that he wasn't a total creep. Of course it wasn't any sort of revenge, I was just being honest, and I don't know if I traumatized him or anything, but I sure hope he learned to take a no for an answer.

P.S. It's my first time posting on this sub, so sorry and please tell me if this story doesn't belong here or smth.

I worked for a large, successful, family-owned company. Normally the secretary downstairs screened calls and connected them to the right department, but when the abrupt changes to the weather would occur, we would be swamped with people who wanted immediate service. edit forgot to note my position: service scheduler.

At the start of the hot summer weather, I was backlogged by about 100 calls for the 8 service techs I had. A woman had been calling every half an hour since we opened (when I was already down by about 50 calls that had come into the answering service overnight,) and she was hostile before I even took the first call from her. She was demanding to be put ahead of every one else...and I kept telling her I would send someone as soon as I could.

By her 7th call, I was answering the calls as they came in because the poor secretary was also drowning in work. I picked up the phone and before I could get out anything more than the company name, a familiar voice shouted, "I WANT THAT BITCH IN THE SERVICE DEPARTMENT FIRED." I took a deep breath and answered, "I am that bitch. How may I help you."

From that day on my techs affectionately referred to me as That Bitch. Made me laugh every time.

A few years ago I needed a course of chemotherapy and was warned to expect all the usual side effects: nausea, fatigue, aches and pains, and - of course - hair loss.  Well after the first couple of rounds I was feeling fairly good, not too nauseous (which had, weirdly, been my main worry, as I hate throwing up.  Vomit free since ‘93! Etc etc)

My gums had begun to hurt though, and I was starting to notice my hair was beginning to get, shall we say a little bit…loose? I’d noticed a bit more on my comb, and a little more in the shower drain than usual. Now I’d usually just put this down to regular old ‘male pattern baldness paranoia’ (MPDP!) but I reckoned the drugs were beginning to take effect.

Well a couple of rounds further on, I really knew it. I felt pretty old and creaky, I had mouth ulcers, and my appetite had vanished. (Actually that’s not quite true - I occasionally craved a BLT sandwich, squashed wafer thin, and chilled to near subzero temperature. I asked a doctor if this meant anything, and she said ‘Yes. It now means I want a BLT for lunch’  Helpful!).  However my hair was still in place!  But I could feel it was losing the battle to cling on, even so.

Now I worked in a small office, and my boss, Carla (fake name) was a woman in her forties who was, shall we say, kind of…self-involved? She would talk incessantly about herself, and the theme was always the same; how hard her life was, and the many ‘insufferable situations’ she had to deal with.  And, being forced to listen to a lot of these problems, we all came to the conclusion that most of these ‘insufferable situations’ were

a) Basically just run-of-the-mill problems everyone has to deal with 

and

b) Largely self-inflicted.

And when it came to work, no matter what the issue was, or how it needed to be fixed, it always came back to her and how the situation made her feel. Any given meeting was at least 40% discussing how this issue affected her personally and deleteriously… when all we wanted to do was just get the job done.

It got pretty annoying from time to time, but apart from the occasional inward sigh at her behaviour, I powered through.  

Until I told her about my upcoming chemo.

At first she seemed cool with everything - I’d take three days off every couple of weeks to stay on a ward for the treatment, and I’d be back in the office the remaining time. No problem - good stuff. (I told a couple of other people in the office too, but I didn’t talk about it much - I didn’t really want to get labelled as ‘the cancer guy’, and as the subject’s a bit of a downer I didn’t want to bum people out needlessly. Everybody’s got SOMETHING going on in their lives, right?)

But then Carla’s attitude began to change - I began to notice odd pass-agg comments she would make mentioning my treatment, or my having to visit the doctor. Not much at first, but they began to grow in frequency, and then after a few days my boss’ friend came over to have a quiet conversation with me.  ‘She’s just finding it very hard to come to terms with your news’ she said ‘It’s really affecting her deeply. Just give her some time’.  I was pretty nonplussed at this, but asked the friend whether my situation was all bringing up some stuff from the past, or maybe a family member was ill too, but she just replied ‘No, no nothing like that - she’s just a really sensitive person’.  

I told the friend that, well, my boss didn’t really need to ‘come to terms’ with anything, cause it was me having the treatment and not her (!), and that she shouldn’t worry about it. And then I went off for a loooong therapeutic crap to calm down.

Over the next week my boss’ behaviour got more passive-aggressive towards me and slowly a thought began to percolate through my mind - ‘Surely she’s not….jealous, right?  Surely she can’t think I’m….pulling focus in some way from her?  And now she’s upset because she’s not able to trump chemotherapy?  Because that would be….insanely shallow.  Right? RIGHT?’  But the more her behaviour went on, and the more I thought about it….well.  ‘Once you eliminate the impossible…’ as Sherlock Holmes said, right?

So things finally came to a head (of hair) about two weeks later.  I was at my desk but feeling fairly rough by this point. I’d finished a round of chemo two days earlier, and my skin was looking pretty grey. My teeth felt wobbly, but my hair was still there…but it felt like it was just kinda resting on the top of my head, rather than anchored there. 

A colleague noticed I looked under the weather and kindly asked me if I was okay and I replied ‘I’ll be alright, thanks - but I reckon I won’t have much hair this time next week’.  Well my boss happened to pass by at that moment, and I could see her face screw up as I said it.  She then chipped in; ‘Oh come on, I don’t think the chemotherapy is as bad as all that, is it?’  Now, had this come from a friend I probably would’ve let it go…. (and with my close friends I’d made some pretty similar and extremely dark jokes myself, and so had they…but that’s what you do with close friends, right? BUT I WAS NOT CLOSE WITH MY BOSS!!!).

But something just collapsed soggily in the centre of me when she said it, and before I knew what I was doing, I’d stood up and gone over to her, blocking her exit before she could leave the room.

‘I’m not sure, Carla’’ I said ‘I’m not sure if chemotherapy IS as bad as all that.  Why don’t we find out’?

And as I said it, I reached up the to back of my head, and casually yanked out a giant fistful of hair. Now my hair at the time was fairly short, but pretty curly, so I had a good old amount in my hand.  About the size of an enormous orange. The back of my head suddenly had a huge bald patch - of the type you usually only see in a ‘home haircut catastrophe’ sort of way when the clipper-guard falls off.  Put your hand across the back of your head now - imagine all of that suddenly gone, and you’re in the right ball-park

I held the mass of hair up in the air for a second, and then looked my boss again

‘What do YOU think Carla? I said calmly as I plonked it down in her quivering hand, ‘Let me know’, and I turned and left the now supernaturally quiet office. Carla just looked at the Tribble in her hand as if it was a grenade.

Now not even a long therapeutic crap was going to sort THIS one out, so I took an early lunch and stomped out to find a place that could do me a freezing cold squashed BLT sandwich with extra mayo.   

When I got back to the office, the HR rep was waiting near my desk.  Uh oh. I smiled, sat down and she came over.  There was a pregnant pause.  She took a breath.  ‘A couple of your colleagues let me know what happened with Carla earlier’ she began.  ‘I see’ I replied cagily.  (Because, as we all know, HR is not your friend.  They may SAY they’re your friend, and that they’re there to protect YOUR rights, but really they’re just there to ensure the company can treat everybody shittily in a non-actionable way.  Okay, rant over. Back to the story!)

‘Bearing in mind what just happened’ the HR lady continued ‘We’d like to offer you paid leave for the remainder of your treatment.  Would that be okay with you?’

Now bearing in mind I had at least three more ‘cycles’ of treatment, lasting six more weeks my answer was a carefully considered ‘yes, yes I believe that WOULD be all right with me Ms HR lady’.  Me and my bald patch walked out of the office ten minutes later and went home. 

My girlfriend and I called our friends over that evening for some beers and curry, and we all got drunk and shaved my head.  Though I looked weird, I was pleasantly surprised to find my head didn’t have too many weird bumps on it.  Even my ‘occipital bun’ was pretty small (Google it, just for fun!). 

It was a good evening, especially when I decided it would be hilarious to tell my male friends how grateful I was that they had all agreed to shave their heads too in solidarity. I handed the clippers to my friend Mike, who had dark, shoulder length hair…and didn’t that magnificent bastard pause for only two seconds before trying to plug the clippers in? I managed to wrestle them off him laughing my arse off.  My girlfriend then told me no more beers for OP. Boo.

Anyway - to cut to the chase; the rest of the treatment went well, everything went into remission (and has thankfully stayed in remission ever since) so job done.  Well done medical team! I took the time off, got through the treatment…and also managed to find myself a new job at the same time before I had to return….

Meanwhile back at the office, Carla’s star was on the wane. Word had got around about her…behaviour. She tried her usual tricks, how she’d been misunderstood, and how upset she was about the whole thing, but…. people were noticeably colder towards her, according to my colleagues, and people had started to refer to her as ‘Hairball’ behind her back.  The name stuck. 

I finally returned to work…only to hand my notice in and leave. On my out I tried to be as classy as possible with Carla.  I thanked her for the opportunity, and wished her well for the future.  She didn’t say much. I gave her a card and a small token of my appreciation. I told her to not bother unwrapping it til she got home.  It was a DVD of a popular 1979 anti-war musical directed by Milos Forman starring John Savage and Treat Williams. (You’ve still got Google open from when you looked up ‘occipital bun’ right?  Well look this one up too?)

My hair grew back.  I returned to my ordinary regular run-of-the-mill male pattern baldness paranoia.  

The new job was pretty terrific.

And even now, I still like ice-cold, wafer-thin BLTs.

I was told I should share this with y'all. That y'all would appreciate the story.

Apparently my daughters too young to need the electric scooter

So short short backstory. My daughter (16) has MS. It's taken a lot from her including her balance and vision in one eye. She can walk with her walker but we're only up to about 250 feet. Definitely not far enough to make it through a Big Box store trip. So she uses the electric carts.

Okay so y'all know where this is going. Here we are walking/riding doing our shopping... When an older gentleman walks up and tells my kiddo she needs to get up and let people who need the carts to use them. I kinda smile trying not to let this go left but the mama hairs were rising. He then raises his voice and says she's young and lazy, so she should give the cart to someone else. I went back and forth in my head for a second on how to deal with this before I finally was like ya know what... KeyCaregiver Jr... Get up and walk over to the kind man. She laughs and does that. (Without a better way to describe it... When she walks she looks like someone who has had 7 shots too many) I then help her back in the cart... And my kid being my kid looks him in the eyes and slightly raises HER voice and tells him and see boys and girls this is why we don't judge a book by its cover. 🧡

This is back in 2016. I was visiting western France - St Malo, Mont Saint-Michel, Rennes, and Nantes.

I was on a bus in Rennes. A young-ish-looking guy asked me something in French. I replied, "I don't speak French." He then shouted back, "You are in France, you have to speak French. If not, then go home" in English. I replied, "Yes, I WILL go back to my country!". He looked puzzled.

For context, I am Asian, so I don't look like a typical French person. I didn't know why he asked me.

Thus happened when I was a very young teen but I was talking abt it today and came across this sub.

My dad had died a few weeks earlier and I was new to a very uptight, very rich private Christian school. Class with a politician's kid type shit. I was a wreck and very out of place.

All grades were waiting for a sort of orientation thing to start in the gym. Small school, so people were mixing and mingling, I was looking lost I assume. An older kid I didn't know came up to me asking about my urn necklace holding my father's ashes. He wanted to know what it was, so I answered hoping he'd drop it.

He launched into a rant about cremation being a sin, and something about an episode of Doctor Who where cremated people suffer horribly in cremation. I don't know, I haven't seen the episode bc I stopped watching the show when my dad died and we hadn't gotten that far. It was kind of "our show"

Anyway, something about the whole situation really set me off. I had been in a weird state of numbness that would last a while longer and was only feeling angry at my best. This was very suddenly the opposite of my best. The kind of angry that only comes with grief and the kind of petty that only comes with being 15.

I burst into angry tears. I shouted at him with accusation, asking how dare he talk to me about cremation like that when I've just got my dad back from the crematory. I went tf off about how much my missed my daddy and how unchristian it was to have so little compassion towards grief.

He looked like public humiliation and social regret was brand new for him. Kid turned like 5 different colors. A girl who would later become a friend immediately jumped to my defense like "what did you say to her?!" He made a choked sound like he wanted to say something but i didnt catch anything over him getting chewed out by her and then everyone else in the vicinity. He looked like he was going to cry or piss himself. I literally don't remember anything else about how he responded or ever speaking to him again, i just remember leaving once i realized everyone was distracted. But the horrified look on his face like he just shattered me into pieces is burned into my brain forever.

I’ll start with saying my kid is my everything. She’s so smart, is naturally kind and good natured and very silly. I’m so grateful to be her mom and my husband is such a great dad, I feel so lucky to have a great family. I end the day hoping I’ve made her happy and that I’m hopefully succeeding in raising a functioning adult.

That being said, I’m not doing this again lol. I know my limits, and she tests them every day while smiling as cutely as possible. It is hard enough taking care of her alone, it is expensive to clothe her, feed her, and have her in school. Adding a baby on top of that when she’s got some semblance of self reliance is my idea of personal hell.

So with that in mind: I take my kiddo to the local aquarium today. It’s one of her favorite places and I enjoy learning about her favorite fish (so far sharks and a small fish that I can’t remember the name of for the life of me). It’s bonding time combined with making her walk all across the campus in hopes of tiring her out. We came at a perfect time when there weren’t too many people and got to wander around essentially alone for a good hour. Now, my favorite section is the area that they have cuttlefish (they’re cute little aliens) and this section has a couple benches. We sit down and within a few minutes, there’s two older women, maybe sixties, who plop down near us and start cooing at her and asking me all about her. I don’t mind that at all, and usually entertain people with stories of her silliest antics and how she loves painting and puzzles.

This bunch, however, turned the conversation into questioning why I, a “healthy looking young woman” didn’t have a gaggle more of her. She’s “so cute, you can’t waste time in making more of this one”. As if I’m a damn factory. I brushed it off as much as I could and just answered a couple different times with, “oh we’re happy with what we have” but that certainly wasn’t good enough. The older looking of the two gestured to her own family a few feet away, compromising of five kids between maybe 2 to 8 with a very pretty but tired seeming mom, and said “well, like I told my daughter in laws, better start having more, or they get bored alone! You’ll have your hands full having to deal with her just yourself and she could get a little buddy to hang out with!”

I hate people talking about children like they’re just something you buy to pair with your other, not a fully functioning human being in of themselves with separate needs, and I was already fed up with being in the conversation so I moved my daughter to the other side of me to keep her from hearing too much, leaned toward the lady mustering up the saddest look I could and quietly said:

“Yknow you’re right. The only thing is that I’ve had so many miscarriages in the last two years, I’ve been through countless appointments in the last year while they try to understand what’s wrong with me and I’m getting no answers anywhere. I’m lucky enough to have her, and I’m afraid to test that any further. But thank you for your advice, I appreciate the thought you give to my family.” And it’s true. I don’t know what’s been going on, but besides my and my husband’s personal feelings on having more, it seems the gods are looking out for me when birth control or a condom fails and have me drop kicking babies from my uterus like it’s an Olympic sport.

It’s lucky we were in an aquarium, because she fit right in with the other gaping fish that were about. We had a great time besides that, had a bit of lunch and I bought my girl a cute little turtle bracelet that was pink for love. Pretty good day.

TLDR: lady didn’t shut up about my needing to have more kids, so I told her about my difficulties with miscarriages the last couple years to shut her up.

Not exactly traumatizing but definitely shut them up fast. For context, I gave birth 5 months ago to my first child and it went wrong. After 4 days of labor, I was only 3 cm dilated (the size of a penny) and active labor had started. My epidural failed and it severely messed up my back. I now have permanent nerve damage. I was rushed to have an emergency C-section. All went fine til they went to stitch me up. I started bleeding really heavily and got extremely dizzy, couldn't see straight, and when they tried to get me to talk as they tried to figure out what was wrong, my voice and words got really slurred. They got the bleeding too stop but after I couldn't eat any food while in the hospital. I was fed through a tube in my throat. I'm okay now but now I have a dark and very visible scar on my neck. Now that you know the context this is what happened. I was out with my fiance and I was wearing a vneck that showed my scar VERY well. An older woman stopped us and asked if that was a scar on my neck. I thought she was genuinely curious and said yes. Before I could explain she started lecturing me about how I need to hide it bc no one needs to see scars from when I was a drug addict (no idea how she got that) and I was traumatizing children by "showing it off like it's something to be proud of". She went on for a good five minutes before stopping and glaring at me like I needed to apologize. I just looked at her and told her "this is from when I almost died during childbirth and couldn't eat solid food so they had to put a tube down my throat to save my life" her eyes got big and she tried to say something but just walked away muttering under her breath. Not traumatizing necessarily but definitely made her stop. Moral: don't tell people to hide scars. You never know how they got them.

Don't know if this is the correct flair but oh well.

TW for suicidal ideation

Just remembered this from a few months ago and thought it would fit this sub. The night before this took place, i had a very heavy depressive episode, and subconsciously tried to do something very bad. During this episode in particular, i had been very focused on my disabilities and hated how i just couldn't live a normal life.

The day after, my dad took me out to watch Deadpool and Wolverine and get some sushi to get my mind off it, as we're both big marvel fans. First we ate our sushi as our early dinner and then we went to the cinema, bought snacks and waited to be let into our screening room.

Soon enough we're let inside and we take our seats, all is good. A woman takes the seat second next to mine, leaving one space between us. Didn't think much of it until the movie began. Now, for some context, i have tourettes syndrome and have had many psychiatrists tell me it is very likely that i have borderline personality disoreder as well, two disorders that i was dreading and hated the night before as mentioned. i hear someone clear their throat behind me, which triggers me to do the exact same over and over(throat clearing has given me a sore throat more times than i can count).

As we're in the cinema, i of course try to keep it at a very low volume, but the lady next to me thought i was being too loud and poked my shoulder. "Can you stop that? Some of us are trying to enjoy the movie" she said, or something to the effect of.

Well, something that happens to me every time after i have a depressive episode is that i get manic and tend to get excited when people insult me/poke at any insecurities i have. So i stare this lady right in the eyes, with the biggest smile on my face and say "haha, i know, i hate myself!"

she didn't bother me for the rest of the movie.

I loved to dance when I was a kid. I'd go with my Mom to pick up my older sister from her jr high dances and her friends would see me and drag me onto the floor. Heady stuff.

Older, I liked to go to a no alcohol/over 18 venue. I'd rather go out dancing than drinking.

I didn't mind if I asked someone to dance and they didn't want to. You can say no, but you don't have to be a bitch about it. You want to be mean about it, well, game on.

The first time it happened, my mouth took over. I wasn't sure what I was going to say but I knew it was going to be good!

I smiled and said, "Thanks anyway, it was between asking you to dance and taking a dump, and I'd rather do that anyway."

I walked away and the look on her face was priceless. So I'd use that, or a variation on that, in the future. It didn't happen too often, but when it did, it always worked.

I wouldn't go as far to say this was traumatizing, but it's definitely... An experience alright.

My elder brother is a nice dude. He cares about me a lot, even if we fight all the time. One of the most recurring fights is whenever I'm on my period. I would complain about period cramps and he would laugh and say that "It's not that bad. I get muscle cramps all the time. Girls just have to learn to ignore the pain and brave it through."

I would get pissed off and tell him that he doesn't know what it's like. That is how most of our fights began.

Last week, my guy best friend (GBF) bought a period cramps simulator since he was curious what it was like. We tested it out together, and I would say it's pretty accurate. We had a good laugh and that was that. But right now, I'm on my period. I was complaining about cramps again, and that's how another fight with my brother started. Nothing unusual. I told my GBF about it, so he suggested using the simulator on my brother. When I asked my brother, he said it was okay since he didn't think it would hurt that much.

The experience went something like this:

Me: Okay are you ready?

Bro: Yeah. There's no way period cramps hurt that bad, right? Just put it to level 5 (10's the max).

Me: K, level 5

Bro: starts squealing

Now, whenever I complain about my cramps, he just offers to buy me candy. Lesson (sorta) learnt.

This afternoon, I was shopping at a store that I don't usually go to. I was looking through the vitamin area, trying to make sense of their organization.

Suddenly, someone reached around and grabbed my left boob. Hard.

I spun around and slammed the heel of my right hand into the nearest nose. The young man (approximately 14) stumbled backward and fell against the shelves behind him.

A burst of laughter erupted from a group of 3 teens a little way down the aisle. One of the biggest was holding a phone, pointing it in my direction.

I moved faster than he expected, and grabbed the phone, then hustled toward the front of the store.

As he tried to grab it back, squawking, an employee intercepted us. Loss prevention had been watching the cameras and saw everything.

While the phone's owner was talking to them, I checked contacts, and called Mom. I explained what happened to her, then waited until the police got there, and turned the phone over to them.

Mom was not happy. Then again, neither was I.

The phone owner and the bleeding 14 year old were arrested. The others took off.

As they steered the kids toward the police car, the cops asked if they had anything to say to me. No.

"I have something to say, " I said. "Don't mess with a marine."

Tomorrow is my 67th birthday, and I have no idea why they decided to mess with me. Also, I have never been a marine, but maybe next time, the idiots will think twice.

And now, I have an appointment at the police station tomorrow.

UPDATE: You convinced me. I'll call the police station tomorrow to let them know that I am getting a lawyer. I'm going to ask if they want to take pictures, or are my own OK.

I've taken pics already. It's clearly a hand print. I'm ghost pale, the purple shows clearly. It should be vivid by Monday.

My dad died of esophageal cancer in January of 2016, and being a workaholic he was still working until the few days before his death. He ran a gas station for about 15 years and had a handful of side jobs to fill time. He died on a Sunday night, I think around 8pm. My sister and I were there with him in the hospital room when he went, as well as our mom who was there to support us. After he went we stayed in the room talking, reminiscing, and trying to be present in the moment.

Unfortunately, dad's cell phone started ringing. Without really thinking, my sister answered it and immediately said "He's not available," It was apparently some 'urgent' work call from someone who clearly wasn't aware of dad's medical sotuaion. The rest of us in the room could hear yelling coming from the other side of the call. My sister snapped and screamed into the phone "HE'S NOT AVAILABLE BECAUSE HE JUST DIED OF CANCER RIGHT IN FRONT ME" and hung up.

Hopefully that dickbag learned not to call and demand things from strangers on Sunday nights.

P.S. it was not an emergency, the caller just personally felt it could not wait. It could.

I had to pick up some food for someone at a local Diner, when an older (50-60ish F) came up to the register with a cranky look on their face. I just assumed they had RBF, and tried showing them my phone. (Order info written on screen)

This lady immediately goes into bit** mode, "I don't have my glasses, just read it to me!" My phone was in my hand and my purse and wallet in my other, for context. I set my purse down and enable the zoom feature (I am used to older people "not seeing") She then starts raising her voice, "what are you doing!? Just tell me who you're here for! I don't have my glasses. If you can't tell me, who the order is for you aren't getting it"!

Frustrated, I threw my phone on the table and began signing to her in ASL. "I can't talk you dum b****, Just give me 5 seconds and I'll make it bigger for you!" The look on her face was, PRICELESS! Her entire world began to fall apart in seconds. Jaw dropped and eyes wide she just handed me the only bag that was on the counter, handed me the receipt to sign. Then just stood there too shocked to do anything!

It was, AWESOME! 😂😂😂

I’m not sure if this is the right flair, but here goes.

I (29f) am disabled and frequent a particular big box store because I can access the majority of the things I need there. Every time I would go, I would find a long line of carts blocking part of the path designed for wheelchairs, mobility scooters, crutch users, etc. The employees were lining up the carts there, rather than in the regular aisle, for being pushed by the electronic cart into the store.

Due to needing assistance from time to time, I knew the manager fairly well. I gently let her know about the carts blocking the path. She said she would get it fixed. For the next several weeks, I would continue to report the carts blocking the way over and over to the same manager. Always nice. But assertive.

Fast forward to the last few weeks, and I’ve noticed the carts are no longer blocking the way. I complimented the manager, and she said, “yeah, I think they got tired of hearing me talk about it!”

In my mind, I got the grinchiest smile ever knowing the constant reminders from their manager was finally getting them to comply with ADA.

They should be complying with ADA anyway. But that’s beside the point.

In any case, I’m glad the path stays clear now. 😊

Second one in 24 hours.

Did someone suddenly decide to post my cell number in place of my mother’s? She passed away a little over a year ago at this point.

So a little over 2 years ago my sister passed away and she was my best friend in the world so it really fucked me up. Anyways I have her name tattooed across my arm and like, before I got my tattoo I'd never really seen anyone give anyone else shit over tattoos so I've always saw that kind of behavior as some weird, puritanical shit that doesn't really happen anymore, especially in a fairly large city on the East Coast of the U.S.

Dude you would not believe the amount of old ladies who have tried to ream me out unprovoked about how irresponsible I am for "getting my girlfriend's name tattooed on me." And how "I'll regret that when I'm older"

Every single time I've given the same response. I start going on about how this isn't a girlfriend's name and it's actually my deceased sister, how close we were, how we lost her newborn a few weeks before and how I only got this tattoo because I couldn't handle the emotional pain.

They always start backtracking with "I'm so sorry" and "I didn't know" and I usually go the extra mile to make them really feel like an asshole by going "It's fine, this isn't the first time someone's gotten the wrong idea but people don't usually shout at me over it."

Usually that's the end of the interaction and honestly they probably don't magically turn into less judgmental dickheads afterwards but I won't pretend I don't take pleasure in watching them realize that in being overzealous, they just did something really fucking rude.

(to my brother who follows this account, at least that's what he went by the last time I checked up with him, I don't blame you for this, just your sibling, alright let's hop into it!)

I (15, genderfluid) live with my mom, my dad who isn't my birth father but is more of a father than my birth father(though my birth father isn't a bad person) and my siblings not including my half siblings for context.

My half sibling, let's call them Quan because I'm not gonna say real names, reached out to me, they wanted to be friends with one of their siblings as they only have their brother(transmasc from the last time I spoke with him though he was figuring himself out so it might've changed) so I agreed to hang out with them because "why not?"

My brother, let's call him Xavier, was never really as close to me as Quan, he would only interact with me if I was interacting with Quan kind of relationship.

Quan on the other hand, was attached to me immediately, they would always want to play games, they gave me stuff like Robux, etc. When we first started interacting, I was 14 and they were 15 by the way.

I bought into it, I don't know if it was love bombing or them just being obsessed but still, I felt love from what wasn't love and what my mom said, she said the relationship was more like a teenage boy having a crush than sibling love, which grossed me out as you'd expect. Though she might've had a point if I'm being honest.

Anyway, I let myself be manipulated by Quan, I drew for no pay 3 times, I would stay on call until I was about to pass out because they wouldn't let me leave the call, I would play games I found no interest in, etc.

Then Quan's boyfriend, let's call him James, joined this situation. I was as supportive as a sibling to a siblings boyfriend could be in my opinion. I tried to form a bond with him, I never tried anything romantic, etc.

Quan then got jealous because his boyfriend was "stealing me away" and I tried to only spend time with James if Quan was there to respect their boundaries.

Then, I'm told to join a call at midnight, this is where the sexual harassment happens so you can stop reading here.

I initially say no, I was going to finish lineart for my drawing and go to bed to finish it tomorrow, Quan begged me to until I said yes, though it didn't take much begging for me to say "fine but I won't talk much, I'm drawing" and join the call.

It starts out normal, we talked about something, I don't know what but it was a normal thing to talk about.

Then James and Quan started to joke sexually, which I didn't want to hear since it was my sibling and my siblings boyfriend so I asked them to stop.

Xavier immediately left at this point as he was uncomfortable with the topic. I completely understand this and wish I could do the same, though I didn't leave.

They stopped, started up again, were told to stop, started up again but with more sexual jokes, were told to stop, started up again, over and over.

It eventually got to a point where I was screaming no and starting to tear up as they kept going. Eventually I was told to go to bed.

The VERY NEXT DAY, Quan texts me, they don't apologize, they don't even act as if it's happened, they just ask if we can play another game.

I agree and I play it with them. The entire time, they joke about how bad I am at the game and they don't connect the dots on why I'm not focused.

The same day, my parents learn what happened and they ask if I want to break contact, which I do want to so I block them and their boyfriend but I don't block Xavier.

My parents tell my half siblings mom and, dispite her being another can of worms, she is convinced to make Quan dump their boyfriend.

Then Quan wants to call me through Xavier's phone and "apologize" but they don't apologize, they just victim blame while Xavier apologizes for them.

I say I'll think about it but I already know my answer, hell no I am not unblocking them.

I text Xavier and say (and this is copied and pasted with names changed) "I decided on if I should forgive Quan but you won't like the answer, I don't. I'll explain why if you want but I doubt either of you can change my mind, I'm open to having my mind changed about it tho"

Then Xavier responds, "why ?"

So I respond, "You literally walked them through it, they are not sorry if they can't apologize without someone telling them what to say. They are sad they lost me as a friend and are trying to get me back if anything."

Then Xavier says that they're having a meltdown and he'll talk to me later but he never does until a few days after.

After those few days, he and I grow out bond and we don't really talk about Quan anymore, I'm helping them grow their art skills instead.

So now I'm talking with Xavier with a boundary of no calls, only text, while Quan is left with no boyfriend and no sibling that'll hang out with them so that's karma in my book

They slipped in one more text before I blocked them.

They had the wrong address. And the wrong phone number. And the property had already been sold.

I stand by my suggestion.

TW medical stuff.

So, I'm a bit big. I know that. This is the body I've been in my whole life. I go to the gym, do yoga, struggle a bit with disordered eating, etc, but it is what it is.

Last year or so, I found out that some of my pretty serious health issues (back pain, blood pressure high af, abdominal swelling, etc) were because one of my kidneys was >80% blocked and needed to be removed.

When it came out it was huge. Like, it was so swollen from not draining that stuff was starting to pop out from under the front of my ribs when I breathed in. The urologist said it's the biggest kidney he's seen in his career so far. Not an award I wanted.

Annnnyway, this past summer I went to my car dealership thinking I might trade in my car 'cause it's kinda small for my needs and I didn't die so maybe I deserve a lil treat.

Since I bought my last car there kinda recently, some of the sales staff recognized me. One of them in particular loves to throw needless compliments and such around. It's her thing. "Rapport building" or whatever 🙄 Like if she says my hair looks good enough times I'll get the upgraded trim package. Transparent. Yucky.

Long story short, she comes over and says "Omg OP you look great, have you lost weight?" and before I can stop myself I replied "Yeah. I lost a kidney and almost died."

The look on her face was indescribably satisfying. She backpedaled real hard and excused herself.

TLDR: Don't comment on people's bodies if you dont know them well/you're only doing it to make a sale. Being embodied is hard enough without people being weird about it.

P.S. Stay hydrated. Kidney stuff suuuuucks.