I sustained very bad injuries to my face this month. I’m in the stage of healing when the scar tissue has formed, but it’s still very tender “new skin”. I’m going to have very obvious facial scarring for the rest of my life. The injury starts about an inch above my hairline and goes down over my brow so that on that part, hair will not grow. It continues down my cheek where it is deepest; I’ll always probably have an indentation in the fullest part of my cheek. Then, it continues to my jawline. 

In some ways, it’s okay. I’m happy it’s just cosmetic damage. My friends are super reassuring, telling me how bada** and sick it’s gonna look. They say I’m still as hot as ever, now a little more sexy and mysterious!

But in some ways, it really sucks… I know that I’m always gonna be seen first as “the girl with the scar”, and it feels especially bad when people look at me differently.

This week, I have to fly home for a family thing; it’s a plan I made long before my injury. I’m not really looking forward to the pity or people making a big deal of it; I’d rather it not be acknowledged.

I recently met with my dermatologist, who said that I am at the stage of scar tissue formation and that I no longer should be dressing the wounds; the skin is healing, and instead, I need to be applying topical cream and Vaseline to keep the site clean and moist.

It also looks a bit ugly; the building scar tissue is very red and tender, and with the Vaseline over it, it looks slick and shiny.

So, I get on this flight. I have the window seat, and I put on my headphones and drift off to sleep while the plane is still boarding.

I wake up to this kid, maybe four years old, sitting next to me, throwing a tantrum. I don’t catch the first part of it, and I honestly can’t understand what he is yelling about. His father leans over to speak to me.

Father: “Can you cover that injury?”

Me: “My dermatologist recommends I don’t, so no, I don’t think I will.”

He starts snapping at me.

Father: “There is no need to be so rude. That injury is graphic, and it’s scaring my little one.”

Me: “This is my face — the only d*** face I’ve got. It sucks being told I’m so ugly I can’t show my g**d*** face in public.” 

He starts to backtrack.

Father: “Just until it’s healed!”

Me: “It’ll always be with me. Maybe teach some f****** compassion and respect instead of telling a girl half your d*** age what you think about her face. That’s rude.” 

He actually got up after that, and I think he went to a stewardess about a seat change because a young couple came to sit next to me in a few minutes instead.

I’ve gotta admit, I felt so low that I put on my sunglasses and had a quiet cry for a few minutes.

In Australia, it’s common for doctors to offer women birth control after having their babies. We’ve seen a lot of studies showing that being pregnant and having children close together can often — not always, but often! — cause issues for the person giving birth, and that’s something we’d like to avoid.

I’m an obstetrician, and we have an adorable couple in their twenties come through us for their prenatal care. They have a three-year-old, as well, who came once to an appointment and was cute as a button and insanely well-behaved for a toddler. The parents said that everyone in their life was joking that their easy oldest child had lulled them into a false sense of security and their next child was sure to be a tornado who didn’t sleep and committed arson. They laughed about it and said they were prepared for anything, though they both did look a little stunned when the ultrasound showed two healthy little babies swimming around in there. They took it in stride and were very excited for their children’s arrival. 

They came to us at showtime, and they delivered two beautifully healthy baby girls. It was a DREAM birth, no complications whatsoever, a miracle in itself with multiples. The twins needed no interventions besides some UV therapy for a bit of jaundice — a couple of quick bakes in the little fish tank and they were good to go.

On the final day in the unit, we offered the mother the same options we offer everyone for birth control. She was a bit overwhelmed — understandably, her hormones were going haywire and she was exhausted — and asked if maybe she could revisit it with her primary care doctor in a couple of weeks when she’d done some research. That was a pretty normal response. We stressed to her that she was very fertile currently and we wouldn’t recommend any activity until she was on some form of birth control. She said it was the last thing on her mind, laughing, and we all said the same thing: “We’ve heard that before!” 

About ten months later, my coworker comes to grab me and points at the appointment list for the day. I grin and walk into the room to find my patient looking rather sheepish.

Me: “Last thing on your mind’, eh?” 

Patient: “It was for a while! Then, I just kept putting off going to the doctor, the next thing I knew, six months had passed, and I still kept putting it off, and now…”

Me: “Honestly, it happens all the time. Maybe this time we can do some research together beforehand so we’re good to go after birth? I’m not judging you at all; I’m only concerned that your pelvic floor might quit and move to Cancun…”

Patient: “Unnecessary. [Husband] isn’t here today because he’s off getting the snip.”

Me: “Oh, that’ll work! You guys decided four is the magic number for you?”

She grins and hands me an ultrasound from our imaging department.

Patient: “Actually, five might be the magic number. It’s twins again.”

Please, birthing humans, think of your bodies! We love babies, and we love to help you have as many as you want, but your body needs the rest to heal.

For a while, I worked for a small company that rented aquariums. Instead of having to purchase the tank, the equipment, and the fish, and make sure the water was right, we’d do it for you. All you had to worry about was feeding the fish every day.

Most of our work came from businesses that wanted pretty fish displays, but eventually, we also rented out to individual persons and homes. This happened because one day in late November we got a phone call from a lady who was very upset. As a Christmas gift, her workplace had given her a fish.

This lady knew nothing about fish except, “Fish DO NOT belong in bowls!”

After listening to this lady talk about how gifting living creatures was an absolutely awful idea, but now that she had the fish, he was her responsibility, my boss agreed to rent and set up an aquarium for her new fish in her house.

At first, she paid the more expensive business fees, but as time went on, with her paying dutifully every month and offering us snacks and drinks whenever we came to check her setup, he created a new price scheme for individual rentals.

We later went on to reuse this option for two of this lady’s friends whose kids wanted a fish, after she suggested to their parents that rental might be a good idea to test if they were ready for the responsibility.

After several years of watching us, asking questions, and helping out with her fish’s setup, it got to the point where our lady customer was doing most of the work herself and our check-up was really just a check-up. Then, it got to the point where we stopped charging to come by every fortnight and instead only came in if she called.

Eventually, she and my boss came to an agreement for her to buy her tank and equipment outright, and she stopped hiring us.

I don’t think this lady actually LIKED her fish. But I’m sure Alpha the Betta fish is still being treated like the king he is, regardless.

This customer is an amazing pet owner, who did the research and gave her fish a happy life, unlike those found in these 10 Shocking Stories About Customers Who Have No Business Being Anywhere Near A Fish Tank!

CONTENT WARNING: Gross

A customer has just finished at the vet’s and is about to leave with her dog, which she is carrying.

Receptionist: “Ma’am, you need to pay for your appointment before you leave.”

She huffs and walks over to the desk to pay.

Receptionist: “Will that be credit or debit?”

Customer: “Can I just tap it?”

Receptionist: “Okay, go ahead.”

She taps her card and hurries toward the exit.

Receptionist: “Excuse me! Sorry, ma’am, but you will still need to put in your PIN as the amount was over the $100 pay-pass limit.”

Customer: “You mean I have to come back over there? No, I’ve paid.”

Receptionist: “I’m sorry, but you haven’t. I need you to come back over and put in your PIN before you leave, please.”

She walks back over to the reception desk looking very uncomfortable.

Receptionist: “Thank you, ma’am.”

The reason for the customer’s behaviour became apparent as a stream of diarrhoea flowed down her legs and the smell filled the building. It was all over the floor, the customer, her clothes, and her shoes, which happened to be flip-flops.

She finished putting in her PIN, didn’t say a word, and walked out, her thongs flicking up liquid poo in a trail behind her.

I am the submitter of this story. My mum has had a bit of a redemption arc (wild, I know). My husband and I are staying with her temporarily for a few months until we can find our forever home. She has been making a significant effort to be a better person, and we’ve both noticed and are appreciative of it. 

I wake up one day to the doorbell ringing and a handyman having arrived to fix the back porch. I go to open the gate to let him through to the back. My mum, who has been working in the backyard, comes up on the other side of the gate. It’s 8:00 in the morning, I haven’t brushed my teeth or even put my glasses on, and she comes out with:

Mum: “Good morning, [Handyman]! This is my daughter. Isn’t she pretty?“

Please note, I’ve never met the guy before. I cock my head at her and give her a completely unrestrained “WTF?” look. 

Handyman: *Awkward chuckle* “Yeah, you’re pretty!”

The cringe is palpable. I hold my “WTF” look for a couple more seconds before silently walking back into the house.

Later, when it isn’t so early in the morning anymore, I bring it up.

Me: “Mum, I don’t know what was going through your head this morning, but… maybe in future… don’t ask random handymen to comment on the appearance of your married twenty-nine-year-old daughter? That was so awkward.”

Mum: *Looking embarrassed* “You’re right; I didn’t think of that. I just… I never praised or said anything nice about you or [Brother] growing up, especially around other people. I only ever said bad things. I was trying to change that.”

I blink, silent for a moment.

Me: “Okay. That’s sweet. But still, terrible way to go about it, Mum! You kinda put both of us on the spot.”

I’ve started laughing at this point. Mum is sheepishly laughing, as well.

Mum: “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”

Me: “A for effort.”

Baby steps, but she’s getting there.

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