“Are you from Tennessee? 'Cause you’re like… really hot.”

Statements followed by question marks hurt my brain, and I will perceive them as disrespectful.

Relatable. My default resting eyes always seem bored or angry. I instinctively raise my eyebrows for photos, which makes me look aggressively locked in. Having said that, your “psychopath eyes” still look quite sweet and approachable, so maybe I’m being too self critical and so are you.

I don’t disagree, although I find the sorts of gloves that are designed to keep hands warm far more unpleasant than the ones designed for safety and hygiene.

Gloves. No one wants to hear my opinions on gloves, yet every day I hear questions and complaints to which the answer is “gloves”, and it’s been a while since I publicly shilled for Big Glove, so here we go.

How do I stop cutting myself? Gloves.
How do I stop chipping my nails? Gloves.
Omg Hazel your hands are so soft how do y– Gloves.

Every time I cut or graze myself, chip a nail or drop a glass, I kick myself because this never would have happened if I’d been wearing my gloves.

My everyday glove of choice lately has been these extra thick grippy nitrile ones. Not all nitrile gloves are made equal, and my long nails poke straight through a lot of them the moment I put them on, so I specifically look for the ones with that grip pattern, often referred to as “diamond grip”. Not only do those ones hold up, but I can continue using a single pair around the house for a week.

You can moisturise all you like, but that moisture won’t last long in an ungloved hand. In gloves, you can use the harshest chemicals you like to wash them. Dish soap, bleach, isopropanol, whatever gets the grease off. Your mint condition hands will remain soft, supple and blemish free. You can impress your scaly handed friends with them later!

For something like your go-kart example, I’d be wearing my Invisigrips. These are my go–to for anything involving heavy lifting, or when there’s a risk of tearing or melting the nitrile gloves.

Oh that sounds so wonderful! Reminds me of my days working at a medical research non–profit, which remain the happiest memories of my career. I knew I had it good, but was too young to fully appreciate how different that culture is to working in the commercial sector. The passion and the friendships are so much more genuine, and in my opinion, worth so much more than the money some might choose to look for elsewhere. I hope your organisation remains well–funded forever.

That comma was inserted with the intention of writing a longer line of scandalising adjectives. I wonder what they were.

Oh wow, we’re so different in that regard. I’d post my face just about anywhere, but I’d never dare send my parents a selfie! 'Tis a lovely ear. 💙

Niiice! Gotta make up for all those years of restraint somehow, right? Hope to see you post here some time. 😉

Ahh, okay. I figured it must be a less corporate situation than I’m used to given your reaction. Sounds like a really nice thing you have going there!

Australia is a cool option! Personally I’d avoid the Eastern states right now, but that’s just my South Australian perspective. To someone from the US or UK, anywhere here is a utopia. It is predicted to be largely incompatible with human life by 2050 for climate reasons, but I’m sure we’ll have built some lovely underground cities by then.

Oh yeah, one of my hang–ups about piercing is the dread of being overwhelmed by choice. I’m bad enough with clothes. I’m not ready for a new type of decision paralysis yet.

they expect your work to be every IG filter they’ve ever used to fix their faces

Exactly what I was thinking reading the first couple of stories. I think people just straight up aren’t used to accurate depictions of their own face. Even the horizontal flip is jarring to most people. No one is symmetrical, and we’re used to mirrors and taking selfies with a front facing camera that horizontally flips the preview.

You have a relationship with your boss unlike I’ve ever had with any of mine. I would have been mortified by this interaction, though admittedly a little pleased after the fact.

Yaaay! Congrats! What made you feel like it was time?

Have you had 6 consecutive months of stable levels in that time? 13 months and I’m still waiting for the day a blood test looks anything like the one that came before it.

Similar thoughts have been crossing my mind ever since learning that the spate of dysphoria and anxiety I’ve experienced over the last couple of months was due to a rapid and prolonged return to male level testosterone. An outcome that my endocrinologist initially made me feel foolish for thinking was likely, as she sent me away with a new HRT regimen that she would later admit she never considered likely to be effective. This experience has radicalised me. My endocrinologist is not my friend or my ally; she’s my puppet. She writes the scripts and the referrals I need, while I dictate the appropriate course of treatment. I cannot afford an orchiectomy, but if a DIY option came up… I’d consider it.

“[Lesbians] are united by one or more common features … mainly biology,” Dr Blake said.

Ughhh we’re about to witness another legal argument that boils down to “what is a woman” while pretending it’s not just about whether they’re cis–passing. If they really want to draw this line, the butch cis lesbians are in for a rude shock when accusations of transness come their way.

Ew. Face grease on my palm. Ugh! Palm grease on my face!

Just like so many “no code” solutions that only become truly useful once I figure out how to expose and modify the obfuscated code. But I don’t talk about Microsoft anymore.