Domestic Violence 101

, , , , | Learning | January 3, 2018

(I teach at a small high school and have taught the same group their freshman through junior years. The juniors are my first group of the day. They have a reputation for being pretty obnoxious. There are known drug dealers and other tough kids in the class. One Monday, I come to work with the entire right side of my face bruised, including a black eye.)

Me: “Okay, folks. I know I don’t normally sit when I teach, but I’m a little achy today, so bear with me.”

(Hands shoot up, and I call on one of toughest kids, who is currently wearing an ankle monitor from his last time in court.)

Student: “Ms. [My Name], what happened to you?”

Me: “I’m fine; I just tripped on my top step and took a nose dive off my deck.”

(I try to go back to my presentation, but the same student is quietly but obviously talking with some of his friends. I’m about to tell him to stop when his hand goes up again.)

Student: “Uh… Ms. [My Name], are you sure that’s what happened? Or do you have a boyfriend the guys and I need to talk to?”

(I reassured him that I am just that clumsy. Things like this are why I continue to teach where I do. Many of my students who are often in trouble can also be some of the sweetest, in their own ways!)

At A Hair-Loss For Words

, , | Healthy | January 3, 2018

(The men in my family tend to start suffering from hair loss in their mid-20s, and mine seems to have started, so I go to a nearby pharmacy to buy certain shampoo recommended by my stepfather. Note that I have grown my hair for a few years and it’s currently some 18 to 20 inches long.)

Employee: “Hello, can I help you with anything?”

Me: “Yes, I was looking for certain shampoo but don’t remember the name of the product.”

Employee: “What kind of shampoo? For dry hair, or–”

Me: “For hair loss.”

Employee: *goes silent and stares at my long hair, then grabs a bottle off a shelf* “Well, we have this one.”

Me: “That’s the product; thank you!”

(I only realized what had happened after I got back home.)

What A Complete Let Down

, , , , , | Related | January 2, 2018

(My spouse and I have a two week old newborn. I have just finished showering while he watched her and I am now nursing her.)

Spouse: “Look! She follows me if I make eye contact with her!”

(He proceeds to catch her eyes and move around. She’s nursing horizontally so she looks up to follow his movement. He moves out of sight, so she leans back to keep him in view, losing her latch in the process. If you are unfamiliar with nursing, there’s a reflex called “let down” that sends milk out. It does not have an off switch and can be anything from just some dampness to a fountain. I’m gifted with a strong “let down” reflex.)

Me: “[Spouse]! Do not unplug the baby! I’m getting milk everywhere! Where’s her burp cloth?! I just showered!”

Spouse: “What? She’s not a wireless baby?”

This Conversation Is Transcending Nowhere

, , , , , , , , , | Friendly | January 1, 2018

(I’m a trans guy. An underclassman has latched onto me as his mentor after I started dating his friend. I’ve assumed that he knows I’m trans, as it’s common knowledge among most people I talk to and he calls me “he.” We’re outside waiting for the bus when this happens.)

Friend: “So, what would you do if you got [Girlfriend] pregnant?”

Me: *surprised* “That would be quite a feat.”

Girlfriend: “Yeah.”

Me: “I guess if she was pregnant, I’d probably break up with her.”

Friend: “What? Why?!”

Girlfriend: “He can’t get me pregnant. It would mean I was cheating.”

(The subject soon changes, but as [Friend] and I get on our bus and my girlfriend gets on hers, he starts it up again.)

Friend: “So, if you got her pregnant, what would you name your kids?”

Me: “Again, I can’t get her pregnant.”

Friend: “What? Really?”

Me: “Yeah.”

Friend: “How does that work?”

(He’s very innocent, in some ways, and I kind of like that I pass as male around him. It’s nice having someone who doesn’t know I’m trans. He also tends to not have much tact, so I don’t necessarily want to get into the whole conversation right now. I don’t want to outright lie, though, so I weigh my words carefully.)

Me: “It’s a… medical thing.”

Friend: “Ah, did you get snip-snipped?” *makes scissor motion with fingers*

Me: “No, it’s complicated. I’ll tell you some other time.”

Friend: “Did you get kicked really hard? Because that’s the only reason I can think of.”

Me: “No!”

Friend: “So, your wick-wack doesn’t work like it used to?”

Me: “Kind of?”

Friend: “That’s weird.”

Me: *tired of this* “I got it fighting a dragon.”

Friend: “A dog?”

Me: “No, a dragon. A fire-breathing dragon.”

Friend: “Okaaay… Where did you find this fire-breathing dragon?”

Me: “In the land of None Of Your Business.”

Friend: “OOOH, that was good.”

(He thankfully changed the topic to Australia, scary animals, and dog breeds he’d eventually like to own. He ended up finding out I was trans later, unfortunately, and my girlfriend explained it to him. Sadly, it’s much less fun talking to him now, especially after he jokingly called me a girl right after he found out. He tried to reassure me by telling me I still “count as a ‘he,'” taking great pleasure in the fact that he knows my apparent “secret,” referencing my “non-existent [genitals],” and telling me that I “confuse him” because he “has to call me he” even though the school still makes me use female formal wear for concert attire. I’ll be distancing myself from him. Thankfully, my girlfriend is one of my fiercest supporters and corrects him whenever she can.)

Nailed Any Chance Of A Tip

, , , , , | Working | January 1, 2018

(My mother and I are getting pedicures together at one of our favorite nail salons after not having them done for a while. My mom has struggled with her weight for years and is understandably sensitive about it. We’ve just sat down and the technicians have come over to start our pedicures when this occurs.)

Technician: “Do you have any medical conditions?”

Mom: “None that are relevant to this, no. Thanks for asking.”

Technician: “Really? Not diabetic?”

(At this point I look over, shocked a bit at the gall of this woman, and waiting to see if my mother wants to just leave the shop.)

Mom: *amazingly keeping her cool* “Nope. Just fat. Thanks.”

(If someone says that they don’t have a relevant medical condition — the first time we’d ever been asked something like that anywhere, ever — don’t push them! No one is going to forget they have diabetes and then remember when you suggest that they might.)

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