My internal monologue is constant. Unless I'm using my language processing capacity for something else (e.g. listening to a podcast or reading text) then my brain is full of verbal diarrhoea. I'll count each step on my way up a staircase just to fill the dead air in my head.

Dunno if I'm "people" but adding broccoli or cauliflower slaps.

I was part of the first cohort in 2008. There were a number of girls at my school whose parents didn't give permission, calling it the "slut jab". I remember boys in our year going round deliberately punching our arms on jab days and calling us slags. At least it was worth it in the end.

I hope that this time round everyone understands what glassing someone means.

The first time I heard mention of Brick Em' Young I thought I was a dark joke. Nope, just knock-off Mormon Lego.

When I worked in memory care I found that the easiest way was to play along. I had co-workers that did their training decades before I did and they were largely attached to "reorientation in time", which is a nice way of saying confronting their delusions, and it was just upsetting for everyone.

I don't want to tell Doris her husband isn't actually late coming back from the shops, or that her parents aren't coming to pick her up, or that she doesnt need to pick up her small children from school. Wouldn't you get upset if some random stranger insisted that your spouse, who you remember waking up next to that day, died ten years ago? Or if that random 50 year old stranger insisted that they were actually your small child that you definitely dropped off at school that morning?

Unfortunately humans aren't capable of experiencing objective reality. Instead everything gets filtered through our brains, which even in a totally healthy state still can't help but filter reality through a layer of subjectivity. Personally I'd pick being lied to every day over being told my life has already passed me by every day.

It's definitely a thing for women. I'm only in my 30s and I've gotten backhanded comments from other women about how bold my make-up is, how short my shorts are, how much cleavage I'm showing, etc. etc.

"Aren't you getting a little old for spaghetti straps?"

"How brave! I haven't worn a playsuit since my 20s."

"If I wore those platforms I'd feel like mutton dressed as lamb."

It's pitiful more than anything. Far too many women my age seem convinced they're already decrepit, old hags. And far too comfortable dragging the rest of us down with them.

No luck catching them peacocks then?

My favourite is that chiropractor who decided that gluing labia together was a valid way to manage periods.

https://www.bbc.com/bbcthree/article/96ea236d-c2f4-45db-8e83-9de3302599c4

Sounds like the easiest solution would be for NHS staff to stop fucking snitching. What do you mean you thought she'd be referred to support services?

Repo! The Genetic Opera. I stopped recommending it after five separate people all said they hated it lol

My dad was 52 when I was born. Getting real tired of developing chronic conditions that are associated with advanced paternal age, ngl.