The universe saw how we’re wreaking ourselves and decided to put us in quarantine.

having the things we could never have when we were young

This is why I went through a period of collecting multi-cultural dolls in my 20s. When I was a kid and asked my mom for a black Barbie, she got weird about it and made me feel very uncomfortable. All over wanting a doll that wasn’t white. Fuck that noise, my Barbies span the human rainbow now.

True, any gathering of current or former “theatre kids” is going to be weird. But that’s what makes them so fun. (Unless you hate show tunes. Then you’re in for a bad time.)

When he was 2, one of my nephews decided to name my tits after the main characters of his favorite TV show. I thought it was so funny that I still introduce them to partners as Bingo and Rolly.

Damn, Uncle for the win!

Hey man, I appreciate your post for setting an amazing example of what being a father is. Some young men are reading this and seeing all these supportive comments, and that’s going to inform how they behave if they become fathers someday. So, thank you for posting your question. It’ll probably end up helping a lot more people than just your son.

I remember showering with my little brother. We would pretend we were puppies, taking turns “playing in the rain.” (It was a shower-tub combo, so the shower stream only covered one half of the tub.)

Contrast this to my mom, who taught me how to shave my legs but who forbid me from “shaving above the knee.”

That ended when I went to school in shorts and the bullies saw my thigh hair glistening in the sun.

It ended two years later, when I met a cool girl who didn’t shave if she didn’t feel like it, rocking her hairy legs without a care.

I’m still not that bold, but I found a balance that works for me. Nobody else’s opinion matters.

My god, that sounds freeing.

Seriously. “Excuse me, Mom. You put what into where?!”

If your son came to you asking for help, don’t overthink. Do the right thing and help him out, regardless of what he wants to shave.

This should be stitched into a throw pillow. The first sentence on one side, the second sentence on the other side.

It could work for so many occasions.

Hey internet: this right here ^ is how you respond when you encounter new information after a disagreement. It’s totally okay to admit not having known something before. You don’t have to double-down on your ignorance or go off at some stranger.

We’re all just people, learning all the time. It’s cool.

Anyway, thanks for responding like a reasonable person, OP.

Oh, it’s absolutely possible, but only after experiencing such abuse and isolation that you come to prefer your own company.

The last straw for me came when I finally stood up to my so-called “best friend,” who acted perfectly sweet when we were alone, but who threw me under the bus whenever my bullies were around. Our families were (and sadly, still are) friends, so I’d known her since she was born and there was a lot of social pressure for us to hang out together. She abused me constantly and loved to fuck with my head. I figured that if that was the “best” friend I could have, then I didn’t need friends at all. One day on the bus home, shortly after she’d spread yet another rumor about me, I called her a traitor and a backstabber.

She immediately turned to the bullies sitting behind us (whose hobbies included talking about me, stealing my stuff, and putting gum in my hair) and said, “That’s so funny! She just called me a traitor!” Yep, I was done.

That was in my last year of middle school. Going into high school, I was resolved to not give a fuck what anybody said about me. I decided to stop trying to change myself to fit in. I embraced my own interests without a care what anybody would say.

And that first year of high school was when I ended up making actual, real friends for the first time. People who actually get me. The payoff was huge and still benefits me today, but it came at a great cost during my most impressionable age.

There is a way out, but it involves not caring what classmates think. That’s a high bar for a lot of kids, especially in middle school. Kids have to come to that conclusion on their own. No amount of adults telling them “you shouldn’t care” will change things.

By high school I found social success after not caring what others thought. But I had been bullied my whole school experience up til that point, so by high school I had run out of fucks to give. In other words, I learned the hard way, but that’s something every teen has to figure out for themselves.

I remember when high tops were in vogue. Granted, I hung out with kids in the “alternative music” scene, and Vans sponsored Warped Tour so much that “Vans Warped Tour” was just a normal term for us.

I feel like I could save this picture and show it to people next time they ask what foods I can’t stand.

As a member of Gen Y, it’s been interesting seeing younger generations take on habits I’ve been doing for years. A few years ago I took a couple weeks to take a road trip across the country, after quitting one job and acquiring a start date for a new one (to start after I returned.) I’ve been doing this because vacations in the US of 2 or more weeks are impossible to get in many jobs.

For the situation above, I had planned a vacation for the first job - I requested it nearly two months early. Then a few days before I was set to go (after I’d already booked a place to stay), my boss attempted to deny my time off. Thankfully, HR put their foot down and I was able to go, but it was the last straw for me. So when I got a new job, I planned out time to enjoy for myself before returning to the rat race.

Workers are human. We need a break sometimes. If companies aren’t going to respect that basic human need, we’re going to find ways to reclaim our time.

(I lived.)

Phew Thank you for that closure.

To any prospective and new parents stumbling onto this thread: Turn back. NOW.

This thread will give you nightmare fuel. You have been warned.

I accidentally slammed my picky toe into a corner once and I’m pretty sure I broke it. But I was scared to tell my parents, so I just wore socks around the house until it healed.

I don’t think it healed properly either. If I feel the edges of my picky toes, I can feel a difference between my right and left. Using standard anatomical terms of location for clarity, the toe that got injured has a pointier joint on the medial edge, with the distal bone of the pinky turning slightly more laterally than the uninjured toe bone does. It doesn’t hurt today and doesn’t cause me any issues, as far as I can tell.

It still sucks that I’m not the only one who felt the need to hide an injury as a child.