Scene/Setting:I changed jobs from being hands on running around the factory floor to being mostly behind a desk. Between the lack of exercise and birthday treats , my weight shot up.

I felt more and more unhappy with my weight, my appearance and lack of energy, so decided to do something about it.
I hadn’t decided what yet, but I saw a flyer in the break room, advertising an outside fitness class nearby. I’m looking it over genuinely thinking about it, when I hear a woman come in.

Woman: oh you don’t need that honey.

Me: hmm what sorry?

Woman: the flyer, I’ve been compalining that they should remove those, things.

Me: no, well actually I was thinking of joining.

Woman: for what ever reason?

Me: …Well, I, I was thinking of loosing some weight.

Woman: but you’re beautiful the way you are.

Me: well thank you. But I feel better in myself when I weighed less.

Woman: (She gives me a fake laught) oh honey, you’ve been brainwashed. You don’t need to loose weight.

(She takes the flyer out of my hand scrunches it up and throws it on a table.)

Woman: there you go, no more …silliness.

(She wouldn’t know it but her weird insistence to stop me, actually made me more determined. Within six months I am nearly back to my old size, I’m out of my sweats and back in clothes that fit. I feel great , I look great.
Don’t let people hold your back, especially when they have their own agendas.)

(My girlfriend is going to make dinner for me, so she texts me with menu suggestions.)
HER: What does ham and au gratin potatoes do for you?
ME: Make me fat.

I’m a woman with a condition that causes some of my skin to have dark patches of hyperpigmentation. Most of it is normally hidden by my clothes, but some is around my underarms and visible even with my arms down – topical treatments haven’t really had much of an effect, but it’s otherwise harmless so I don’t really mind it. I’m standing in line for some ice cream on a swelteringly hot day, wearing a sleeveless shirt, when a guy approaches from one of the nearby tables.

Guy: “Look, I don’t care if you’re trying to make a statement or whatever, but people are gonna lose their appetites if they see all that gross armpit hair poking out. It’s unhygienic.”

Me: “I’m not gonna argue with you about all that, but if you’d look closely, you’ll see this is actually just my skin.” *raises one arm*

A few people were already looking shocked at how loudly he’d insulted me out of the blue, but now many more are glaring, muttering and shaking their heads. The guy looks embarrassed and rushes off. As I go back to waiting in line, an old lady waiting behind me taps my shoulder. She apologized for not saying anything since she was so stunned by the guy’s behavior and asked if I was alright. I told her I was fine, which was the truth – I’ve had this condition for years, it’s not the first time someone has been rude about it, and I’m just not self-conscious about it anymore.

However, I do find it pretty sad that so many people find that an acceptable way to talk to someone! And some of them didn’t even have the grace to apologize or at least look embarrassed, but instead doubled down when confronted, calling me a freak and telling me to stay inside. If it isn’t your body and it isn’t actually hurting you, please, keep your thoughts to yourself.

I work in the produce department for a fairly well-known grocery company, particularly on the closing shift. Most nights, my job entails going around and restocking product as needed, as well as cleaning and basically whatever else extra the manager on hand decides they want done. We get asked quite frequently if we are out of lettuce, as that is not in the same location as all of the fresh product which we call the wet rack (due entirely to the misters that help keep the product moist and healthy). This isn’t a huge deal, really; it’s easy enough to guide them to the correct location.

On a night like any other, it is getting close to the end of my shift. I am doing some last-minute touching up and cleaning, getting things ready so the overnight guy can come in and just get straight to work putting out the new product sitting in our cooler. I spot an older man wandering over toward the wet rack out of the corner of my eye. I glance over to keep an eye on him in case he needs help.

Barely a minute later, he picks up the largest head of cauliflower we have, walks straight up to me, looks me dead in the eye, and asks:

Customer: “Is this lettuce?”

I ended up getting him what he was actually looking for, but more than anything, I was dumbfounded that he somehow confused cauliflower for lettuce, considering he had to walk past the cabbage to do so.

I’ve had a really long day at work, and due to my husband working late, I often pick up the little kids and put them to bed alone, so I’m not looking forward to the usual tantrums over bedtime, cleaning their room, brushing teeth, picking just a few books instead of half the bookshelf… And on top of that, my six year old is at the stage where she asks questions about literally everything, and I’m rapidly running out of patience.

At one point, I state we need to gas up the car, and she asks why. Unfortunately, this pushes me over the edge and I snap, asking why she thinks I would say something like that. It takes several minutes of prodding, but eventually she comes to her own conclusion that I need to gas up the car because the car is out of gas.

Unfortunately, again, I use the phrase “Just use your brain!” as I’m yelling at her, and to her credit she stayed remarkably calm. Suddenly, my three year old started bawling, and as tired as I was, I still managed to calm him down, while still driving, enough to hear why he was upset.

“Mommy, I no have a brain!”

I lost all decorum at that moment and tried, as seriously as I could, to explain to my son that he actually does have a brain. Thankfully, by the time we got home, he had been persuaded that he did have a brain, and bedtime was blissfully smooth that night.