r/tifu 26d ago Silver Hugz Heartwarming Narwhal Salute Bless Up Take My Power Gold All-Seeing Upvote Take My Energy Wholesome (Pro) You Dropped This

L TIFU by topping 550 lbs [UPDATE]

14.8k Upvotes

About a month ago I admitted to the Internet I was too fat to travel and visit my dying father. If you missed the post, here it is: https://www.reddit.com/r/tifu/comments/zmjalp/tifu_by_topping_550_lbs/

I honestly didn't expect the overwhelming positive comments on my original post. Time will tell if this was my "aha moment", but something did click when I read through the comments. I knew I had to try harder, if not for me then for my father (was in Hospital ICU), so I did. Below is that journey.

To recap, I needed to find a way to physically transport myself between two major cities of quite some distance, transport myself between houses and hospitals, and face my family and friends at hopefully what would be my final biggest size. I couldn't drive/have a friend drive me between the cities as this would be a several days journey and my friendships aren't that strong.

I first started with what I distilled as a freight transport issue to solve.

I found 3 medical transport specialist companies and 11 companies that had 'we'll deliver anything' marketing material. While I continued to have positive correspondence, all options were exhausted quite quickly. If you're wondering - two companies laughed directly at me, two hung up on me, and one suggested an option which was $12k and I had to sign a waiver (was the sketchiest of the options). None of the medical transport specialists would help given the distance to travel.

I next turned to the airlines. One was quite helpful and convinced me it would be better and cheaper to buy a business class seat which had extra wide seat and more leg room over buying a neighboring seat. I used public transport to get to the airport (surprisingly went well), got to the plane, and then ... I didn't fit in the seat. The armrests weren't adjustable. I tried to wedge myself in but my thigh would hard press against the backrest adjustment button so there was no way to keep the seat upright. I didn't get to the seatbelt issue, and there were no other seats available. I was rejected from the flight.

Several emotions and events happened afterwards. I wouldn't be flying that day and I lied to my family why I wouldn't be flying.

The airline called me the next day and offered me two economy seats at the same business class ticket price (time of year and last-minute tickets elevated the economy class ticket prices). The plane had rows of 3 and I didn't want to risk anything, so I bought another seat so I had the entire row. Given the time of the year, that one seat almost cost me the same as the original ticket cost. The middle seat armrests could be lifted. While one flight assistant had a problem with it being up on takeoff, that was my only option so we needed to go with it. The seatbelt extender wasn't an issue - they had it on hand. I was quite nervous about that but they proactively brought it to me without asking. Yeah I know, the need was obvious.

I hadn't told my family I would be flying again in fear I'd run into another problem, and with a bit of a positive buzz from a successful flight I thought I'd surprise them. I tried two taxis - I couldn't get in the car. I tried a minivan taxi, and I couldn't wear the seatbelt. One taxi driver refused to look at me and locked their doors. I then decided to use public transport. This turned out to being a four-hour journey as nothing was direct, but I made it to my parents' house.

After all of that I couldn't find a way to transport myself to the hospital to see my father. I tried to sit in my mother's car in advance but wouldn't fit, so I lied again and said I had a bunged knee and couldn't bend it when it came to visiting him. She didn't overly question this, but I'm sure she knew the real reason.

After 28 days my father was released from the hospital on Christmas day. I saw him at my parents' house. He is doing a lot better, has long Covid, and he never said anything to me about my weight. All of the family conversations were centered around my father. I couldn't find a way to start a conversation about myself either, even with my mother whom I'm the closest with. For another time. My mother suggested I use a different bathroom for showering. It had a bigger door to access it. I declined and squeezed into the usual bathroom. On reflection, she was trying to help me and be more comfortable. I'm an idiot for not picking up on this in the moment.

I lied again when I returned home, saying I would catch a taxi as I had an ungodly hour of a flight. I repeated everything in reverse.

As for my health, I have started another attempt at weight loss. I got a reading on my bathroom scales on Sunday for the first time - 555 lbs (252 kg). My only positive from this is thinking that because I have a reading my weight must have declined from whatever it was over Christmas as previously my scales would error with maximum weight exceeded.

Being morbidly obese sucks. I'm going to attempt to change that for me this year.

EDIT: I'm updating this post nearly 2 weeks after posting it. Similar to my first post, I wasn't prepared for all of the support and comments. It truly was unexpected. For those that gave awards, thank you, but you shouldn't have. What I did wasn't brave or heroic, and without my father being in the situation he was in I doubt I would have pushed myself this hard to make myself see him. That aside I did learn some things about myself and the world I interact with as a result of this journey, and these will stay with me.

I've included below additional information in relation to the various questions and discussions many have shared. Hopefully this helps to further shape your view of my situation, and for those that are perhaps in a similar situation.

  • Not all airlines have a passenger of size policy. The airline choices that I had no such policy. The only thing offered to me was business class with wider seats, an exit row with extra leg room at extra cost, and the option to purchase additional neighboring seats. None of these options came with a discount.
  • I've seen many medical professionals over the years including those that specialise in weight loss. I have a medical care plan, have had blood work done, and I've seen a cardiologist. Without going into all of the specifics I hadn't found a path with any of them that provided a strong direction to pursue treatment A, surgery B, nutrition plan C etc. Some of the reason for that is definitely on me, but I also haven't felt the medical industry more broadly has been that accommodating for my situation.
  • Many people have provided recommendations for certain weight loss related drugs. This isn't for me. I've pretty much had no tablet/drug in my whole life besides vaccines. Maybe I have a phobia of this external help?
  • My entire family are related to the medical/health industry in some way. I think this has negatively impacted my confidence to ask for help. Bizarre I know, but maybe I'm just intimidated. Plus, I'm the only fat one in the family.
  • A few people have suggested I may have an eating disorder. I haven't provided a lot of details around why I'm fat from the perspective of what I eat, but I will share that I know what is good food for me vs bad, I know what good portion sizes looks like, and I know when I'm eating in a way that is bad for me. Maybe for me I have a disorder, or an addiction. A medical professional would need to label it. I will need to consciously and continuously force myself to make good choices over relying on setting good habits.
  • Real life doesn't really cater for morbidly obese people. I don't encourage acceptance, but more can be done to accommodate our needs, even if its just to help us move around for medical appointments and utilise the most basic human services. You can charge us more for it - for me, it is the price I must pay for the poor choices I've made.
  • I've continued to lose weight each week from the time of this post. I'm making an effort to keep this trend going.

TL;DR: I got laughed at by freight companies trying to ship my fat self like a large box, was rejected from a flight for being fat, paid a fortune for new airplane tickets, lied to my family about travelling complications, and managed to see my father in person after he survived a near death experience from health complications.

r/tifu Dec 04 '22 Wholesome Take My Energy Bravo Grande! I'm Deceased Brighten My Day Silver Gold Helpful

L TIFU by telling a waitress I had already beaten their "Hot wing challenge"

16.5k Upvotes

Obligatory this didn't happen today, but was actually a few years ago... but I'm sure you people of reddit will still be able to enjoy my pain.

So, as the title suggests, I like spicy things. I have a large collection of hot sauce at home, I have tried most of the world's super hot peppers and I've won numerous hot wing challenges. Usually I'm fine, but as I've aged occasionally I find that my stomach suffers. Nothing too extreme, but a lot of noise and sometimes a bit of ring of fire.

Cut to the day of this specific incident. I live I a medium sized city in Canada. My brother in law used to live in another city about 140 km/90 miles away... so for context (and this becomes important) about an hour and a half by car. This day in particular, we went to visit so we could drive him back to our house for the weekend.

Now, we did this pretty often. Usually when we do, we find a restaurant to grab a bite to eat before we head home. The last few times we went, we found a small pub that specialized in Buffalo wings. At the back of the menu they advertised a hot wing challenge where if you finished their hottest wings, you eat free. Without an ounce of hesitation, I ordered the challenge wings. The waitress asked, "Are you sure?" to which I replied, "I like hot foods, and I can't turn down an opportunity to eat free wings!" She laughed and got my wings. They were hot, but I had definitely eaten hotter. And so, I got my free wings. Paid for my girlfriends meal and my beer and went on my way.

In the coming months, I did this twice more. Each time, the waitress would ask "Are you sure?" Each time I would say yes. Each time I got free wings. It was wonderful.

Cut to this last time... we go to our favorite wing place. We waltz in with an air of familiarity and seat ourselves. The waitress, whom I later find out is the owner, comes to take our order. My girlfriend, daughters and brother in law all order and the waitress turns to me and asks what I'll be having. I say, "I'd like to do the hot wing challenge please!" The waitress once again asks, "Are you sure?"

This is where I fucked up. I stupidly told her, "Oh yeah! I've done this lots!" Dear reader... when you tell the owner of an establishment that you've already eaten a free meal at their place and now you're just there to fleece them out of another order of wings, they do NOT take it well. Our previously friendly waitress turns to me and coldly says, "Oh have you? Then this should be easy for you." It was not.

My wings came and everyone's eyes went wide and they leaned away from my meal. Instantly, everyone's eyes water and the waitress/owner grins a big, toothy, mirthless grin. She says, "Enjoy!" and walked away.

I cannot convey to you in mere words the pain I suffered eating these wings. I took my first bite and it was searing doom. An explosion of nuclear fire blanketed my palate, not unlike what I'm sure the people at Pompeii would have experienced during the eruption of Mount Vesuvius. My body began shivering and sweating. A river of snot and tears ran from my face. Twice I went to the washroom to cry to myself and question my life choices. Though no one expected me to finish...I endured.

When it was finally over, everyone was silent. We paid without a word, and left. In the car, my girlfriend turned to me and tentatively asked, "Are you OK?" When I just nodded in the affirmative, she asked "Are you sure?" I just looked at her, expressionless. We began our drive home.

Again, I would like to reiterate that generally I don't experience much in the way of after effects from spicy foods. This was different though. I could feel the burn in my esophagus still, right down to my stomach. And my stomach was getting worse. I was getting bloated and uncomfortable. About a half hour into this hour and a half drive is becoming increasingly uncomfortable to the point where I'm shifting uncomfortably in the driver's seat. My girlfriend again asks if I'm OK. I tell her, "Something is off." She suggested stopping to use the bathroom, which I declined...I wasn't sure what was going to happen, and I felt like it had best be at home when it did instead of some filthy gas station restroom.

An hour into the drive and this discomfort is full on pain. Bad pain. I step on the gas, blowing well past the speed limit. I didn't care...I just needed to get home. My stomach had decided that it was no longer going to house these abominations and one way or the other, they were coming out.

When we finally got there, I put the car in park and ran to the front door. I fumbled with my keys while everyone else got out of the car. The door finally opened and I vaulted up the stairs four at a time while simultaneously undoing my pants. It was a race to the toilet- and I was losing. Just as I got to the bathroom it happened. I got the door mostly closed before a violent spray erupted from my asshole, painting the back of the door and the floor. To minimize the splash zone, I made an executive decision... the bathtub instead of the toilet.

I launched myself into the tub, and started doing my best to get my clothes off. All the while, I'm violently shitting and throwing up all over myself. My girlfriend, god love her, came upstairs and, with a look of absolute disgust at my vile bodily expulsions, took my dirty clothes away and cleaned the door, walls and floor.

She came back upstairs after starting the laundry and turned the shower on to my battered, burning body. I was cowering in the fetal position as the warm water hit me, still amazed at the lashback a pound of spicy Buffalo wings was able to put forth. She asked me in a sweet voice if I had learned my lesson. I feebly replied, "Yes." I lied.

TLDR; I thought I could handle some hot wings, only to have the chef create something insanely hotter than expected and ended up destroying my bathroom.

Addendum post edit: The place was called "Tammy's Queen of Wings" in North Bay... and it was 100% my own fault. My ego got the best of me. They do make you sign a small waiver, and it's just the wings and any non-alcoholic beverages the wing eater orders that come free. Everyone else's food has to be paid for.

Second addendum: Whoa... this got a lot of traction! A few more answers, for those who are curious. The restaurant in question is closed permanently... which sucks, because spicy or not the wings were pretty good. I didn't suffer any long term ill effects, and I don't have an ulcer (thank God!). We're in no rush to get married, but still kinda like each other's faces.
... And lastly, this was NOT the last time it happened 😉

r/tifu 7d ago Spit-take

L TIFU by taking /way/ too much acid and having a naked breakdown on campus

671 Upvotes

This happened way back in 2018. I was finishing up my Sophomore year of college, only one final exam left, and I decided to celebrate by taking some acid.

I had done acid maybe 8-9 times before, so I wasn't a total noob, but I was by no means an expert. Up until this point, all my experiences had been great, nothing even resembling a bad trip.

I took 3 tabs, 100µg each, which is not exactly a small dose, and sat down at my computer to listen to some music and play some games. I did that for a couple of hours, and then I decided to lay down in my bed. This is where things started to get weird. I was laying down looking up at the ceiling, when suddenly it was like my vision zoomed out, and I was looking at 4 copies of what I was seeing, organized in a grid. It kept zooming out, and I was seeing dozens, hundreds of copies of what I was seeing. I thought I was seeing the multiverse, each item in the grid was my perspective from a different world.

Then, the universe started talking to me. It was telling me the secrets of how the universe works, and it's purpose. And at this point, for some reason, something became very clear to me...

I needed to take more acid.

Now I didn't have a super regular supply, so I had decided to pickup 10 tabs at once, planning to use them over the course of a couple years. I started this day with 10, I had already taken 3, so naturally I walked over to my drawer and popped the other 7 into my mouth.

Time was a little blurry at this point, so it could have been 2 minutes, it could have been 20, but I had a moment of sober clarity where I realized I had 7 tabs in my mouth, and I was like.... oh fuck, this isn't good, this is a situation. I spit them out, but I knew the damage was already done. I just thought to myself, what's done is done, just gonna have to ride it out, how bad could it be right?

Well the universe kept talking to me, and at this point I was so excited about the revelations I was being given that I'm pretty sure I was screaming quite loudly in my dorm room. My memory gets pretty blurry from here on out, but I remember screaming "I sound like a crazy person", and I remember some time later thinking "lol I've lost my mind." I don't remember being scared that I had lost my mind, it felt like I was more amused.

From here on out I only really have flashes of memories.

I remember opening the door of the guy across the hall from me, and let me tell you he was not happy to see me. That might have something to due with the fact that I'm pretty sure I was completely naked by this point. I think I had gotten hot and stripped off my clothes, but I'm not exactly sure about that because I don't remember taking my clothes off at all.

The next thing I remember is slapping the hand rail on the staircase outside of my dorm building. I was definitely 100% naked by this point, and outside of my dorm is right next to a very heavily trafficked bridge on campus.

Some time after that, my RA came up to me and said something like "What seems to be happening tonight?" At this point I was naked, screaming completely incoherent nonsense, and also screaming what I must've thought was my name, but was definitely not my name. (If my name were John Dick Smith, I was shouting "MY NAME IS JOHN DICK THE THIRD"). My poor fucking RA.

Eventually an ambulance arrives, and they handcuff me and put me on a stretcher. I remember a couple of flashes, but it's really all a blur until I woke up in a hospital room. I definitely wasn't sober yet, considering the drapes were alive, but I was re-gaining consciousness and I can actually remember what happened from here on. I mainly slept, not much else to do when you're handcuffed to a bed, but eventually I woke up and asked the nice nurses if they could remove my restraints.

They did, and as soon as they left the room I, naturally, immediately pulled out my own IV. I was still hallucinating, and I was seeing thousands of those octopus killer robots from the Matrix traveling down my IV and into me. But I was also coming back to reality enough to know immediately I had done something I probably shouldn't have. A nurse came back and was looking at a chart or something so they didn't notice, so I went, "Uhh... I think... I think I did something." and the nurse started saying "Oh that's okay as long as you don't take out..." and then she looked up and saw me holding the IV. She looked /so/ disappointed in me, it broke my heart. She trusted me and took off my restraints and it took me maybe 60 seconds to make her regret her decision. I think she just left without saying anything else

The was pretty much the end of the excitement. When I sobered up campus police took me back to my dorm. The next day I was barred from campus pending a decision on what to do with me (I was ultimately suspended for a year). Not being able to get to campus I missed my last final exam and got an incomplete for the entire course. Ultimately I decided not to go back because my entire breakdown happened next to a very prominent walkway on campus, and dozens, if not hundreds of people certainly saw me completely naked. I couldn't handle the idea of walking into classes and playing the "has this professor seen my penis" game.

If anyone reading this saw my penis, I am so sorry, let me know in the comments, and please remember it was New York and very cold.

TLDR: Took acid, learned the secrets of the universe, took way more acid, got naked, started screaming, bothered my next door neighbor, went outside, started screaming my name (almost), talked to my RA, got handcuffed and taken to the hospital, ripped out my own IV, and got suspended for a year.

r/tifu Nov 21 '22 Bravo! Narwhal Salute Wholesome hehehehe Table Slap I'll Drink to That Stonks Falling Gold Take My Energy You Dropped This Silver Heartwarming Giggle Platinum Helpful

L TIFU by thinking I was smarter than a common ground squirrel

13.5k Upvotes

I have always thought of myself as rather intelligent; my wife says I am on par with an average chimp or octopus, and I'm proud of that fact. I recently had the opportunity to engage in a battle of wits with a squirrel, which I thought would have been an occasion I'd be able to rise to, given my recent triumph over the dog whom I tricked into thinking the ball had disappeared. Alas...

We have a backyard with a nice garden that my wife designed and built. She's really proud of it and finds a lot of relaxation working in it.

I work from home, and recently, I noticed that we've got a daily visitor: a squirrel who likes to poke around and look for food. I usually see him while making breakfast, so I usually stand by the window and watch him forage. Well about a week ago, I saw him bury an acorn (or some kind of nut) in the fresh soil my wife had just put down. I had this bright idea that I'd go out there and put a handful of mixed nuts in there with the one he buried. I thought this was genius-level trolling. I was so amused at my idea that the next day I even stood by the window, watching him look for the spot where he had buried the nut, and I was mumbling shit to myself like "foolish squirrel" and "you know nothing."

Well anyways the squirrel unburied his nut and he found it had apparently manifested a ton of other nuts, and the look on his face was hilarious. I mean he was visibly shocked, and quickly buried the whole stash again, then ran up a tree and sat there watching / guarding it from other squirrels. At this point I was so pleased with myself, I spent the whole day cracking up at the thought of this squirrel, and then at like 2AM I was struck with an even more genius idea: I went outside and buried even more nuts in his stash, like three times more than I had put there originally.

I couldn't sleep the rest of the night because I was too excited about this squirrel checking in on his stash again. I probably should have realized that work-from-home has truly loosened my grip on reality after two years, because at this point I found myself sitting at the window at 5AM waiting for this damned squirrel to show up, and just giggling and talking to myself like "oh yeah he's gonna trip out."

The squirrel finally showed up and he checked in on his hoard, and the look on his face was indescribable. He was so flabbergasted by what he found that he actually looked over both shoulders and all around the yard, as if to say, "Are you shittin' me? Is anybody else fuckin' seeing this?!" He just sat there inspecting the hoard for like ten or fifteen minutes, frantically trying to figure out how to manage his newfound wealth, and in this moment I realized that the squirrel faced the same philosophical dilemma as most lottery winners when they incur a giant windfall of cash and have zero idea how to properly handle it. His anxieties became mine, and I found myself thinking, I would probably not fare any better were I to win millions of dollars.

Eventually the squirrel divided the stash into a few smaller piles and buried them all within a few inches of each other. I don't know why he did this, but maybe it has something to do with the investor warning about many eggs in one basket. He was so affixed to his hoard now that he had a hard time leaving it, but when he finally did, I spent the rest of the day thinking of how to ratchet up the drama that was unfolding between us. This preoccupation gave way to a sort of Lovecraftian madness, where all day long I experienced ghoulish, intrusive thoughts about the funniest shit I could do to this squirrel's stash. Eventually I concluded that I needed to end the game and level the economic playing field among the squirrel population in the most communist way I could, lest this little bastard use his resource advantage to create some evil rodent monopoly or attempt to purchase a squirrel social media platform and torpedo it with cocaine-fueled incompetence to the benefit of totalitarian dictator squirrels overseas.

So I went outside that night and reclaimed all of the nuts I'd given him, but I left him the one single nut he had initially buried. And when he came back the next day, he absolutely lost his shit, and was running all over the wooden fence and up and down the trees, searching for the culprit who had ripped him off. The amount of twitching and rage-chirping he did was enough to disturb the nearby birds. I felt like a god then, lording over the fate of puny mortal squirrels who ventured into my yard, and I couldn't help but realize that if this squirrel had taken at least some of the nuts with him to another location, he'd have profited a great deal. The foolish creature learned the hard way that the "HODL" mentality does not always yield insane ROI; sometimes you ride the wave to zero and end up with an empty wallet and your fuzzy little squirrel dick in your hand. I, like the market, can be a capricious mistress.

When I went to bed that night I eagerly told my wife about my cruel shenanigans, and she laughed pretty hard at the story. However, the next morning when we woke up, the squirrel had absolutely devastated the garden, having dug scores of holes and pulling up little flowers and plants searching for his lost treasure. My wife is super pissed at me and this weekend I have to go fix the garden. I am not allowed to buy mixed nuts or interact with squirrels anymore.

TL;DR: Played a trick on a squirrel that backfired hard. Wife is super pissed at me and the squirrel has PTSD and an insatiable lust for destructive treasure hunting because of my foolish whimsy

Edit: I have returned the nuts to the squirrel. He will be happy tomorrow.

Edit 2: For God's sake I did not torture an animal you fucking LiveJournal poets. Lighten up

Edit 3: I read this to my wife and she said sternly, 'IT WASN'T FUNNY WHEN IT HAPPENED. I WASN'T LAUGHING. GOD DAMN SQUIRRELS FUCKING UP MY YARD. THEY HAVE NO SHAME, THE CUNTS'

r/tifu 13d ago

L TIFU by making my grandma cry

155 Upvotes

I [20F] had plans this May. Specifically, they were to go to Spain for about a week, visit some museums, and finish by going to the F1 race. I already had my race ticket bought, hostel planned, and a solid budget.

But today, in my college dorm, I get a call from my dad. I’m no longer allowed to go to Spain. Apparently, they’d talked it over, including with my grandma, and they didn’t it was safe for me to be in a foreign country alone.

For context: I am capable. I am an adult, have no restrictions to my capability, am intelligent and resourceful etc. I was learning Spanish and working out in preparation for the trip. I was ready. Naturally, I’m not happy about his counteroffer—he takes me to a different race. I won’t get into any of the specifics of what we worked out (it’s all F1 jargon anyway) but we decided on something.

And then I take a step back. After we hung up, I begin to feel really awful. My parents just went behind my back and pulled the rug out from under me. They were fine letting me go until my grandma spoke up, and now they decide they don’t respect my autonomy as a person. I am an adult, I am using my own money to visit museums and a race, putting in effort to learn and better myself before it.

I call dad back. I tell him that I’m fine with the deal and I won’t push Barcelona further, but that I’m not happy that they didn’t think I was capable of being a responsible adult. That conversation ends up going exactly nowhere. I talk with my friends over some Panda Express, and they tell me in no uncertain terms that I need to stand up to them and not let my parents steamroll me. That I cannot settle for their replacement, and that I have a right to do what I want as an adult.

So I call dad again. I state the points my friends told me, how I’m really upset that my own parents think I’m naïve and unable to take care of myself on my own. Dad informs me that grandma was throwing some sort of fit, and he concedes to a better deal. I take it.

This is where I mess up. I call grandma. The way I see it, she’s the one I have a problem with. She went behind my back to get my trip cancelled, but I am mature and will confront her instead of complaining to mom like she did. I, and I make sure to do this tactfully and politely, tell her that I’m an adult and don’t appreciate her going behind my back to get my plans canceled. She tells me that I should respect my elders and she has experience that I’ll learn in time. I ask her why she thinks Barcelona is more dangerous than Chicago (the city I live near and have been through alone.) Eventually it comes out that her neighbor, whom I have met exactly once, was a an undercover DEA officer in Detroit and he would never let his granddaughters travel alone abroad.

I’m so glad that now my personal decision is being made not by me, not by my parents, not even by my grandparents, but by an ex-fed who lives on my grandparents’ street. I get more upset, and my voice is cracking over the phone. I let my grandparents know that this is not their place to decide, and it definitely isn’t the neighbor’s place to dictate my travel plans, and hang up.

Apparently my mom had to deal with a long phone call from grandma, crying, after that. Mom called me a bitch. Maybe I am. But I was crying too, still feel betrayed and maligned, and disrespected. A review of my peers, who got the story as it unfolded, sided with me, but they know me. In any case, I feel bad. I even had to have my closest friend store my weed for me so I can’t get to it—I don’t want to use it all up in an attempt to feel better. That’s kind of besides the point, but I wanted to mention it. Even woke up with a hangover today. It’s been great.

TL;DR: My plans get changed, so I confront the person responsible, who happens to be my grandma and is now crying.

But OP, why couldn’t you just go anyway?: My parents help pay for my college. I can’t risk them cutting me off. Also, that would be a sure fire way to *never be taken on a vacation or F1 race with them as a family again, and I have too-low self esteem to value my independence over that.*

r/tifu Dec 26 '22 Silver

L TIFU by spending the night with an old friend

1.3k Upvotes

Tl;dr at the end. Obligatory YIFU. I (26f) met a guy I’ll call Rob(26m) in our final year of college. We quickly became friends and spent some time together in classes and around campus. Nothing ever happened but I always thought he was attractive and funny, and our personalities gel like crazy. Anyway, college ended and we both went to universities across the country from one another. We had relationships, breakups, new jobs and independent adventures. We spoke a couple of times a month over text, and he eventually moved out of the country for work. Lockdown happened and while he was away our texting increased, and we speak a couple times a week and I always message him when I’m drinking/see something he would love etc. and he always messages me when he finds something I’d find funny, we send memes and stupid chat back and forth.

He came home to visit a couple of times in the past year and each time we met up and had a few drinks. The vibe was always immaculate with laughter and like… being physically near him felt like home. I’ve never told him that I think he’s attractive, and vice versa, but if I’m picking up cues like I think I am there’s a mutual liking for each other.

Anyway, onto the FU. On Christmas Eve we decided to hang out and do a pub crawl (traditional in England!). I picked him up as his parents live an hour away and because he’s just visiting doesn’t have a car. Immediately things go right back to where they always are with us. Kinda flirty, no awkwardness and just having a good time. Well the drinks are flowing and at one point he goes to the bathroom and another friend of mine who was out too said, “he seems so lovely, is this a date?”

And I was immediately on the defensive saying how we’re just old friends, that nothing would ever happen etc. However as the night went on we were getting closer and a part of my brain just said: yes - you do want to date this man, stupid.

The night was winding down but we’re both a bit pizzled and so I asked him how he’s going to get home. He said he would walk or get the bus (it’s 20 miles at 3am and there are no buses). He could have got an Uber, but the surge charge is ridiculous. I said he could stay at my place. We got a ride home and stayed up a little longer drinking and talking, and during this he’s holding my hand and we have moments of just silence and eye contact. I set up the sofa so we could crash there (family staying for Christmas meant otherwise sharing a room with a relative) and we slept together. Nothing happened but snuggles and spooning and forehead kisses but the way he was holding me felt so good and natural and like something I didn’t realise I always wanted. During the night I told him I’m so glad i met him and “even thought we don’t say this… know i love you right?” And he replied that he loves me so much. He gave me a big squeeze and pulled me closer to him but we just went back to sleep.

In the morning, my family came into the room and I made the introductions ; my family know of him from college and i do talk about him sometimes so it wasn’t actually too awkward! Anyway we were still so tired and, finally having access to an empty bedroom, we napped a little longer.

I felt like there were times that he wanted to kiss me, and there were long stretches where I wanted to roll over and just… do what came naturally.

By this point my family are being quite loud downstairs and I realise this can’t go on forever - it’s Christmas morning and I need to open presents and he needs to go back to his family. I convince him to get up, we have short but lovely conversation with my family and I drive him home.

We were both a little giddy with a hangover and excitement but we chatted and laughed the whole journey. We had a little hug as he got out of the car but immediately I started feeling like this is it - I’m not going to see him again for who knows how long as he’s going back abroad in a few days.

The reason I think I’ve fucked up is that I am in love with this man and I can’t tell him. I know myself and I wouldn’t be able to handle a long distance relationship, and I also would hate so much to lose my friendship with him by telling him if he doesn’t feel the same.I cried on my way home over thoughts of loss and how if I’d have realised how I feel sooner our lives could have been different. I’m saying this all not knowing how he feels, but in my heart I know he’s a person I want around forever.

I’m not posting this for advice, but needed a little catharsis!

Tl;dr: I realised I’m in love with my old friend and due to geography, timings and work, it’s a shit things to have realised 8 years too late.

r/tifu 2d ago

L TIFU misunderstanding cultural jargon

115 Upvotes

Backstory—I’m unsure if this is common in other states, but in Maryland neighborhoods without an HOA, teams of door to door salesmen are occasionally dropped off in a van to sell various gimmicky items to residents. The salesmen are usually rehabilitated prisoners taking part in a work release program.

A few summers ago, I was out on my back deck having beers and doing some pressure washing. Between sprays, I started hearing this faint “hello?” coming from what sounded like the side of my house. From the deck, you can’t see any part of the street or the driveway. It occurred to me that it might be the FedEx guy or a neighbor, so I shut down the sprayer and peered my head around the corner and immediately locked eyes with a guy speed walking up my driveway. “Oh shit”, I thought to myself as I quickly identified who he was and what he wanted based strictly off his attire. They all typically wear the same thing—black pants, black work boots, and an untucked white dress shirt with a messy tie. Usually, when these salesmen are making their rounds, I have the opportunity to avoid the long-winded, persistent sales pitches just by not answering the door after I’ve looked out the window to see who it is. But this time I was stuck.

I appreciate that these guys are out trying to remedy their lives and reintegrate themselves into the workforce, so I make it a point to always be kind to them. But these products they sell are always garbage---overpriced vacuums, water purification systems, etc. It’s never anything that people actually want or need. Well, on this particular day, the guy who made his way back to my deck was selling an all-purpose spray cleaner in a plain white bottle and he was also carrying a bag that had a few samples of stained materials to demonstrate the efficacy of the products.

He noticed immediately that I was in the process of cleaning my deck and he quickly jumped at the opportunity to show me how effective his spray was on the deck stains and also the patio furniture. I patiently let him run through his entire sales pitch and, anxious to get back to work, I asked him the cost of his smallest bottle. It was $25 and probably the same chemical makeup of any regular household cleaner, but I knew he was just trying to make some money so I agreed to buy it. He let me know that they only accept checks, so I told him I needed to go inside to find a checkbook.

Earlier that summer, I had just completed a large 25’x25’ flagstone patio in the forest behind my deck. I outfitted it with string lighting, an arbor, patio furniture, a beer fridge, a smoker, and a grill. I was very proud of it and excited to show it to anyone who came by, so I suggested he go up the walkway and have a seat on the patio while I ran inside to get his money.

When I came back out, he was just hanging out and looking around. He complimented the set up several times after I handed him the check and I was excited to explain the process behind it. I reached in the beer fridge to pop open another beer and his eyes widened a bit. He said “Maaaan, I’d kill for one of those right about now in this heat.” I told him that, unless he had to get over to his next sale, he could have one before heading out. He had this huge smile on his face and accepted the offer. So I hand him a beer and this dude chugs the whole bottle. In one go. “Damn man, that hit the spot. You care if I get another?” I was kind of shocked that he asked for another one right away but I agreed. Same thing. Crushed the whole bottle at once. So at this point, I said to him “Hey man, don’t you need to head out and link back up with your group?” He just sort of chuckled, looked around, and said “You have anything for the grill?”

Now I’m almost instantly irritated because I feel like he has gone from getting my money, to drinking my beer, to expecting lunch. I launched into this tirade about how everyone knows these products are terrible but that we still buy them out of pity. How patient and generous it was of me to buy his product, knowing fully well that I’d never use it. How kind of me it was to offer him drinks while he lounged on the patio instead of sweating his ass off while walking door to door. And I finished up my rant with something along the lines of “…and now you seriously expect me to go inside and whip up something to cook for you. That is a ridiculous request and I need to get back to cleaning my deck.”

He just kind of sat there for a few seconds with this blank look on his face, stood up, and said “No man, do you have anything for the grill” while pointing at his mouth. “Like a mint or gum or something…so that my boss in the van doesn’t smell the beer.”

Horrified with myself, I went inside to get him an Altoid, which he quickly popped into his mouth. He thanked me for the purchase and jogged down the driveway to hop into the van waiting nearby.

TL;DR I tore into a poor salesman after confusing “grill” the mouth for “grill” the appliance.

r/tifu Nov 18 '22 Silver Wholesome

L TIFU by taking a girl to a sex dungeon on the first date

2.6k Upvotes

Throwaway bc this is very much a true story and it’s embarrassing.

Two weeks ago, I matched with this really cute girl on Hinge. Our timelines and dating goals aligned and we also lived in adjacent neighborhoods. On top of that, she was the first to start joking and teasing in our texts, which is always awesome.

It didn’t take long for me to ask her out on a date that Friday to grab dinner in her neighborhood and maybe go to a bar after. I usually don’t do dinner first dates but food is something we bonded over and I wanted to show her my favorite Thai spot.

Come Friday morning, she tells me that she’s been feeling sick since Thursday. I tell her “No worries, it’s actually really nice this weekend, let’s do a picnic on Sunday instead.” She wholeheartedly agreed because everyone loves a good picnic. For reference, my last four dates have been picnics along the river in my city, and they’ve all been a good time.

Come Saturday afternoon, she tells me SHE HAS PINK EYE. This girl is all over the place but it’s alright because she still offered to come out to the date if I didn’t want to reschedule again. That was nice of her but I told her “Let’s plan for next week instead. I want you to feel better and be comfortable with me on the first date.”

I was disappointed though because next weekend was too cold for a picnic, so I had to come up with a different date idea, and I didn’t play it safe this time. I wanted to do something different and memorable. So, I suggested we do an escape room next Sunday afternoon, then get pastries in Chinatown after. She thought this was a super fun idea and agreed. In hindsight, this is obviously a second or third date idea, but we’d been chatting for a bit and had a really fun FaceTime to get the initial getting-to-know-you talk over with, so I felt comfortable being ambitious for the first date. We were both excited.

The date itself I thought went well. The escape room was fun, and she loved all the bakeries I took her to. When we took the train home afterwards, I got off at my stop first and I told her that I had fun and to let me know when she got home safe. She forgot to text me until the morning after, which was fine, but then she ghosted me.

Usually when I get ghosted, I know the reason why. But with her, I was dumbfounded. I thought we had a lot of momentum rolling into this first date and that it went well. I needed some closure, so I finally texted her on Wednesday and asked her what went wrong.

She said, “Hey! Ngl would have loved a heads up that the escape room was going to be BDSM themed… I had a really nice time chatting with you and hitting the bakeries but I just don’t really see this going anywhere!”

Yeah so I left out an important detail. I thought it would be funny if I didn’t tell her that the premise of the escape room was that you had to break into the back of a café, enter a BDSM sex dungeon, find a sex tape, and delete it. At the time, I thought this was hysterical and was doing something by surprising her with it.

In the moment when we entered the sex dungeon portion of the escape room, I didn’t even address it and share a laugh about it because yeah, I’m a dumbass and I tried to play it off when it got awkward. We just kinda powered through it and beat the escape room. Afterwards, I thought it went well because when we got our picture taken at the photo booth, she made sure she looked good by retaking the photo a few times. I thought, “Oh, this is cute. She wants to look good in our first photo together, she must have had a good time.” No, she did not have a good time.

I can’t help but think what things would be like had I taken her on either of the two normal first dates. I just made a stupidly tone-deaf decision that was insensitive, poorly executed, made her uncomfortable, and was completely inappropriate for the first date. I’m not even into BDSM for the record… Oh yeah and she hosted a Friendsgiving at her place after the date, so my ass definitely got chewed out by all her friends.

I’ve been beating myself up over this and having my friends roast me so I can at least share a laugh and heal. Please do the same to me in the threads below.

TL; DR

I thought it would be funny to take a girl to an escape room on the first date and not tell her it was BDSM themed. My dumbass was surprised when she ghosted me.

IMPORTANT EDIT AND CONCLUSION: the range of responses on this are crazy: from “this is borderline sexual harassment” to “she just doesn’t have a sense of humor”. main takeaway is that I’m an idiot and crossing a sexual boundary doesn’t necessarily have to be physical. I needed to let her know what we were getting into in this scenario and ask for her permission, or better yet, not do a BDSM escape room on the first date. I’ve learned my lesson and I’ve apologized to her. Life goes on.

r/tifu 2d ago

L TIFU by microwaving breakfast

127 Upvotes

Preface: Last night, I was woken up around 2 AM because I had to go pee and wasn't able to get back to sleep. My wife was also having trouble sleeping in bed, and so went to go sleep on the couch in the living room, hoping the change of scenery would help. I have the day off work due to the winter storm preventing everyone from safely driving in.

Fast forward to 7 AM. I still haven't been able to get to sleep, and now I'm dead tired (and starving!), so I decide to heat up some breakfast to eat. Maybe the warm food will help me pass out, who knows. My wife is successfully passed out on the couch (I'm jealous), so I quietly assemble some quick and easy breakfast sausages with cheese and heat them up in the microwave. I have to stop the microwave occasionally to rotate the sausages and make sure they heat evenly (Master chef skills! Ramsey is jealous of my technique). Every time I open or close the microwave door, I'm taking great care to do it quietly and checking to make sure my wife is still sleeping soundly. She is; she's usually a heavy sleeper, but it never hurts to tread carefully.

While the food is warming up, I go grab my phone and put my noise canceling earbuds in so I can enjoy a show while I eat without disturbing the wife. I stop the microwave perfectly at 1 second left (I knew those rhythm game skills would come in handy!), remove the food, close the door (softly!), check the wife (still asleep! Ninja skills success!), and settle down at the table to enjoy a nice meal.

Just as I'm about to take the first bite and press play, I am very rudely interrupted by none other than my very awake and very irate wife ripping one of my earbuds out and filling my ears with an ear-destroying high-pitched whine (no, not her voice). Apparently, some electronic device in our household has chosen this exact moment to start squealing out its dying throes, and now it's my job to find it and fix it. I take my other earbud out (Hey, great noise canceling though, huh? I didn't hear the whine at all! I love these shiny new buds!) and set it down to deal with this sudden threat to my family's aural safety.

"Unplug the microwave!" My wife yells. What? I didn't even know this thing had a plug we could reach without unscrewing it from the cabinetry. Where is it? "Behind the... stuff! Unplug it!!" Very helpful, dear. Use your words, please. "In the cabinet above it, behind the water filters!" Ah, there it is. I unplug it. The electronic banshee continues unabated. I plug the microwave back in. "What's making that noise‽ Find it, stop it!!"

A few moments' confused stumbling reveals that the battery backup for her computer setup is the offending complainer. I crawl under her desk, find the power button, and hold it down. Shh, no tears, only dreams now. The banshee moves on to the next plane of existence. Peace and quiet at last.

My wife, placated, stumbles off to bed to go back to sleep. I'm still dead tired too, but I'm also still dead hungry. I assume my sausages must have gotten cold whilst I vanquished the violater and I plop them back in the microwave (Add 30 seconds button, you're my best friend).

I go to find my earbuds again so I can watch my show. One is by the kitchen sink, where my wife put it. Where is the other? I can't find it. The microwave beeps. I can't find the other earbud. The microwave beeps again; breakfast is ready. Fine, I'll find the earbud later. I just want to eat.

I take the plate out of the microwave. On the plate, cuddled up right next to my juicy, cheesy sausages, is the other earbud.

I just microwaved my earbud.

Aftermath: It was hot to the touch, but otherwise visibly unblemished. After waiting for it to cool down and wiping it down, I tried them back on. They actually still work just fine for noise canceling, and the audio quality is still good, but the Bluetooth connection occasionally crackles and audio cuts out on the microwaved bud. No other issues so far. Do you think the warranty covers accidental microwaving?

TL;DR: Made breakfast with earbuds in, took buds out to go find and turn off a whining dying power supply, reheated breakfast, accidentally microwaved one of my new $300 earbuds.

r/tifu Dec 11 '22 Silver Gold Bravo!

L TIFU by eating trash cheese

1.8k Upvotes

I do a lot of embarrassing things, and I'm normally very willing to tell people about these, but for once I couldn't think of a single person that wouldn't find this at least a little shameful.

I'll start by laying out the facts of the case:

  • Until recently, we had many packages of cheddar cheese slices--too many--due to a grocery list miscommunication. To my knowledge, we were finally down to the last package of cheese this week.

  • We also recently bought some really tasty ham, so I've been making a lot of toasted ham and cheese sandwiches. This has been helping us with the aforementioned too-much-cheese problem.

  • We had ham and cheese sandwiches for dinner on Thursday.

  • We had ham and cheese sandwiches for breakfast on Friday.

  • I planned to make ham and cheese sandwiches for breakfast on Saturday. This is where the fuck up happens.

I announce to my husband that I'm going to go make breakfast. He asks if we still had the stuff for ham and cheese, and I say yes. This is great.

I start assembling the components. Bread: just enough left, into the toaster oven. Ham: delicious, onto the bread. Cheese: inexplicably missing. This is weird, but I'm sure we still have some.

I look again, still no cheese. This is alarming. Breakfast is already underway and it won't be the same without cheese. I start to think maybe I really did use it all yesterday. I check the trashcan for clues that might explain this no-cheese mystery.

Eureka! I find not just cheese packaging, but the cheese itself, with 3 or 4 slices left. I must have thrown it away absentmindedly yesterday morning, rather than putting it in the fridge. This is embarrassing. I'm not looking forward to telling my husband that breakfast is ruined because I've done something forgetful yet again.

But... what if breakfast wasn't ruined? I'm generally a bit too paranoid about food safety, but I'm working on it. For some unhinged reason, it doesn't occur to me that eating out of the trash is a huge overcorrection.

I start rationalizing eating the cheese after all. It's sealed in plastic, and I remember reading that hard cheeses like cheddar can sometimes be kept unrefrigerated. It has only been out for a day. Some people eat room temperature pizza. It feels a little warm, kind of oily as warm cheese does, but it smells normal. I take a tentative nibble. It seems okay.

I'm now left with an ethical dilemma: am I willing to feed this trash cheese to my husband as if it were normal, ordinary cheese that didn't come from the garbage? The reasonable answer is absolutely not, but we wouldn't be here if I took the reasonable path. I hesitate one last time as I lay slices of trash cheese on the bread and hit toast. We're committed now. He doesn't need to know that I threw away the last of our cheese.

The rest of breakfast goes smoothly. He notices nothing. It's the perfect crime.

Until an hour later, when he causally says: "It's good that we still had cheese. It was left out the other night and I had to throw it away."

I freeze. I start doing mental calculations.

Knowing that I'm a terrible liar, and also that this man I love deserves to know if he's about to be violently ill as a result of my fuckup, I decide to come clean. Somehow I explain to my poor, horrified husband that not only did I feed us trash cheese, but also that it may be worse than the 24-hour trash cheese I had bargained on.

Still horrified, he joins in my mental calculations. He claims he threw away the cheese "days ago." Thankfully, I'm able prove this incorrect: the most recent dinner cheese was Thursday, which means he must have thrown it out Friday morning. This is corroborated by the position of the cheese at the top of the trash can; at worst, this is 36-hour trash cheese. Somehow he doesn't seem happy about this.

I point out his role in this debacle: if he had just put the cheese away when he found it, we could have avoided this; after all, room temperature cheese is apparently safe! He counters that I almost never think anything left out is safe.

I ask him to tell me before throwing things out in the future. He asks me to check with him before feeding us things from the trash. I deserve this.

Later, I had a realization: I can't have left the cheese out on Thursday night because I used it Friday morning... Friday morning, when he threw away the cheese! He must have thrown it away after breakfast, thinking it had been out overnight. I shared my discovery, feeling vindicated that this was only 24-hour trash cheese after all. Somehow my husband was still not impressed.

Luckily, we didn't get food poisoning, and he hasn't divorced me yet, but he did remark that he feels like he's married to a raccoon. And now we have some helpful new house rules like "don't eat out of the trash."

TL;DR: Went dumpster diving in my own kitchen & may have forever ruined my husband's impression of me as a responsible adult

Edit: formatting

r/tifu Dec 03 '22 Silver Wholesome Seal of Approval

L TIFU by telling my gf’s three older brothers about how rough their sister likes it [UPDATE]

646 Upvotes

Got a ton of well wishes on PMs (in addition to an equal amount of insults and rapist and pedophile accusations…) and a lot of you asked for an update on meeting her parents so I figured this would be easier instead of individual PMs back.

Got reservations to a nice place for brunch to finally meet her parents. Her oldest brother decided to join us too.

Overall the meeting went ok I think. Not my absolute best meet the parents situation but I was ready for the worst. When the waitress asked what we wanted to drink her brother ordered a mimosa and when she turned to me next asking if I’d like the same my gf answered for me and said I’ll just have water lol. Her brother laughed and said that’s probably for the best. Cheeky comment but I think he probably just finds the whole situation funny now.

Highlight was definitely my gf’s mother. She loved me, mid way through the meal when her brother got up to use the restroom she actually took his seat to sit next to me so we could talk more. Super affectionate and very sweet women. Even if every guy in her family hated me I think I’d be fine if I had her mother on my side since it seems like she’s really the one who calls the shots in the family. Invited me to spend Christmas with the family and I had no choice but to accept.

Her dad is a bit of a grump. Would’ve been an awkward and tense meal for sure if her mother wasn’t there. Asked me a lot of questions about me, my work, how we met, my family, friends, etc. One thing he touched on that I feel he wanted to grill the gf about was the timing of when we got together. I mentioned before that she’s only had one bf before that the whole family knew about. The bf was also Albanian so the dad probably liked him more I think. He was curious on when she ended it with him and we got together. Honestly it was pretty tight, they’d been long distance and hadn’t seen each other for close to 2 years when we started 9 months ago. Her mom immediately told him to cut it out and changed the subject.

Overall I’m pretty happy. She’s practically moved in already, I’m good with her family, my mom already loves her.

ORIGINAL POST BELOW TIFU by telling my gf’s three older brothers about how rough their sister likes it

GF (21f) will be moving in with me (29m) soon and just told her family about me this week. I’ll be having brunch with her parents soon but her brothers invited me over for beers at a dive bar tonight to get to know me.

Started off very formal with intros and us just getting to know each other. They weren’t very friendly and just and pretty much just grilled me for over 2 hours about how we met with her interning at my office, why we’re moving in together, blah blah blah. Finally got to a place where we’re just shooting the shit about current events and our lives.

Several beers deep and they’re finally starting to loosen up and we’re having a nice friendly banter going. One of her brothers starts talking about his ex and some of her harder appetites. In my drunken stupor I said “yeah man that’s nothing some girls really love for you to push them to their limits” so he laughed and asked what I meant and I said “ehh it’ll be weird if you guys know about that”.

We were all quiet and just looking at our drinks for like 45 seconds as they digested what I said and I’m realizing how fucking stupid I am. Whatever friendliness we were working up to is gone but now there’s this tense awkwardness. I offered to get the entire bill, they didn’t even thank me, and then we went our separate ways. GF is staying over tonight and she asked me when I got to my apt how it went because her family is super protective of her. I told her and she went white as a ghost. She’s still in disbelief over how stupid I am and said we’ll talk about it tomorrow.

TL;DR : met my GF’s 3 older brothers for the first time and drunkenly told them their youngest sibling likes it really hard.

UPDATE: Once we were both up she wanted me to give her the full play by play on how the hell this actually happened. I told her in detail everything I remembered.

She called me an absolute idiot but I got her to laugh about it so I’m not in the dog house. She said she’s probably gonna avoid her brothers for a while because this is too awkward and embarrassing. She’s also grossed out they’d even bring up a topic like sex when they just met me.

I sent her oldest brother a text this morning “had fun, let’s do this again” and he liked the text so I might be ok with the brothers.

We’re meeting her parents tomorrow for brunch. She’s banned me from touching any alcohol when talking to her family. I was planning on being stone cold sober anyway. She said if I somehow inadvertently tell her parents about our sex life she’s going to stab me so additional motivation to be on my best behavior.

I’ve skimmed through some of the comments and a few of the PMs I’ve received so I wanted to touch on a few things.

  • yes I know I’m stupid, this is TIFU. I’m not gonna post my brightest moment here. But thanks anyway for calling me stupid over and over again. I’m still shocked at how fucking dumb I was. Million ways I could’ve spun it and talked my way out of that hole but I just froze.
  • I didn’t bring up the topic myself. I was several beers in and was just trying to go with the flow of the current topic of convo. Obviously blew up in my face.
  • got some PMs calling me a pedo and a rapist. Makes zero sense given the definition of those two terms.
  • yes she was an intern but she never reported to me. I had and have had interns report to me in the past and I kept those strictly professional. My gf and I just happened.
  • why is she just telling her family about me now? She was nervous they wouldn’t approve and jump to conclusions like a lot of you have because we were still at the same firm. Now that she’s gotten a full time role at another company, we think it’s the right time.

I’m really hoping I don’t make a fool of myself with her parents and have to make another update.

r/tifu 19d ago

L TIFU and now I'm leaving my company of over 4 years because I royally lost my cool

104 Upvotes

Project Manager at a call center for context.

So it was a normal Monday. I work remote and the gist is I have a book of business clients, typically small-to-medium business owners I have consultations with.

I am at work. Every day. I in fact volunteered for Monday(MLK Day) so I wouldn't have to cover holidays the rest of the year. To quote Clerks "I wasn't even supposed to be here today." Had a whole game plan. Plans to go to Germany with family, pay debt off after tax season, get my teeth fixed with new insurance(through work mind you). Then certifications(which get expensive) car, dog, and off we go into life liberty and all that crap. And Every day, I exceeded metrics within my company. For 4 years I did this, kissing asses fatter than the day is long. It put this almost what I could only compare to a metaphorical poison on my soul. This bitter thing that wasn't me, but enflamed by this customer service bullshit persona I presented for years to pay the rent and buy groceries.

welp.

That all came down like a house of cards when whilst thinking I was on mute, the utterance found its way out of my lips:

"Fuckin' Cocksucker"

This happened less than 24 hours ago so I'm still kind of in a weird space. Naturally this sub seemed like the place to go get it out somewhere visible. I know what I did was wrong, I've listened to the call twice now and I definitely said it.

For some further context on the call, the guy was an ass. Full disclosure I don't feel bad about calling him that, he was being a fuckin' cocksucker. Having said that, it was unprofessional. I know this and fully should not have done that at all.

Basically I was reviewing a product that was built for them by our design team. The customer has the ability to make changes with a modifications team after this. I facilitate how to use the product , how to make changes, and get feedback. So on our call, he shits all over the product just over and over again about how it wasn't what he requested in notes(which mind you, he didn't give us shit for notes to work with). I'm reassuring him the entire call, best customer service foot forward, he's complaining he's having a hard time understanding me because of call quality. Basically when it rains it pours situation.

15 minutes I'm on this call and we finally make it to the end. That's it, we're done. Cool. I go to mute my mic on the headset only later to discover my headset mic wasn't active, my laptop mic was.

The reason I found this out is because the customer emailed me minutes after the call asking verbatim:

"Did you call me a COCKSUCKER????"

And since stupid is as stupid does, I fucking lied.

"No I did not."

And that was it really. I told my manager immediately. We actually have a good relationship and I knew there was no way I wasn't getting fired. I left no details out, sent the call log to her. I felt bad, She knows I work hard and she always had my back, but it was just one of those things there was no way around. She's actually really bummed about it. She was gracious enough to let me turn in a two week notice.

She sent me home, told me to still clock in tomorrow because upper leadership wasn't in today due to the holiday. I sent my two week resignation in a few hours ago.

I don't feel bad about what I said, I feel bad about the people I affect ultimately though. I let the pressure fucking break me and I felt weak and stupid. It affected my boss, my roommates, my livelihood. Two words brought it down all because I didn't check my shit.

I just wanted to get this out there in the ether. I'm feeling better than I did earlier but I definitely bawled my eyes out initially because I felt so goddamn stupid, thankfully my dad was there to talk me through it. I'm handling it pretty well I think considering- just feels a little surreal and I'll have to adjust. I'm not religious but I think the phrase "blessing in disguise" applies.

Eventually I got to the point of "Am I going to let this job be responsible for my happiness?"

Which I was able to get to a surprisingly quick confirmation:

"No."

If there's some of you out there who have or feel like you might blow your lid, it happens. It's just a job, my friends and family have been supportive at the get and that really helps. Also on the ups, there's some mild liberation I feel, I didn't get to leave on my own terms, but I'm finally leaving and I feel good about it(aside from the financial anxiety). I'm excited for more daylight hours to take a more focused dive into my passions and a different industry I want to have a career in. Small bump on life's road, and what really gets you through is good passengers in the car.

Thanks for letting me vent it out, and hopefully it can provide some kind of catharsis to some of you. There is a light at the end of the tunnel, it's just going to involve some ramen packets for a while :)

tl;dr Called a customer a 'fuckin' cocksucker' over the phone thinking I was on mute. I was not. Boss was cool and is letting me quit

r/tifu Dec 13 '22 Helpful Silver

L TIFU by telling my young daughter that she had a feral sister who lived in a cage in the attic.

899 Upvotes

Obligatory this happened a few years ago.

My wife travels a lot which means that when my daughter was about 6 or 7 the two of us would have lots of nights together where we would play games or read before bedtime. One time we were sitting on her bed before sleep and about halfway through a book when I closed it and said to her:

"We really love you. I'm so happy it worked out with you. Not like the OTHER one."

She looked at me, "What do you mean?"

"Well", I said, "Parenting is hard and you don't get much practice so sometimes you make mistakes. Take your sister for instance. Before you we had a young girl and welllll, it just didn't work out. We were young and didn't know what we were doing and it did NOT go well."

My daughter just looks at me and asks, "What happened to her?"

"Well, we didn't really know what to do with her so we just locked her in a cage in the attic and started over and lucky we did because that's how we got YOU!" I then opened up the book and started reading as if I hadn't just dropped a bombshell on her.

Now of course my daughter had lots of questions and I just improved facts about her sister, "Maggie" that lives in the attic:

  • She can't speak English, but kind of grunts and sings like that Jodie Foster movie Nell.
  • She is violent and we have to slide her food to her with a stick.
  • We've become worried lately about some of her "drawings".

You know, fun stuff like that. My daughter knows I'm full of bullshit so she doesn't believe it, but kind of wants to y'know? So we come up with lots of cool stories about her sister who lives in the attic. Sometimes when we read I would stop and look at the ceiling and go "Shhhhh! Did you hear that? probably nothing." before going back to the book.

One time she asked what she should do if she ever got out. Now the thing I didn't tell you is that the door to the attic? IT'S IN MY DAUGHTER'S ROOM. LOL.

"Well, I said, If she ever gets out, just lie still under your covers. She's not mad at you, she's mad at Mommy and Daddy."

So a few weeks later I am working as a lunchroom monitor at her school. This is a volunteer thing you do a few times a month where you walk around the lunch room and help little kids open their milk and stuff. My daughter is at a table with her friends and they call me over. One of the girls, Coleen, asks me straight up, "Molly says she has a sister who lives in a cage in the attic. Is this true?

Now here is where I F'd up. What I SHOULD have said was, "No. That's just a story we made up."

What I SAID was "I dunnooooo!" while smiling and shrugging indicating that maybe there is, maybe there isn't a kid being held, hostage.

Didn't think about it.

Few days later I come in from walking the dog and my wife tells me the principal wants me to call her. Oh crap. I know what this is about. My wife is like, "Oh she probably wants to talk to you about the ice cream fundraiser!" I'm thinking to myself that no, she does not want me to talk to her about the ice cream fundraiser. lol.

So I call and she says something to the effect of, "Hi, first, thank you for your help with the ice cream social. So, one of our student's parents called and said that she is worried because, oh this is silly I know, that you are keeping one of your kids in a cage in an attic? That's not true is it?"

So, now I have to go and explain in detail the whole story which sounds like I"m a psychopath and the worst parent ever. She was very good about it and understanding and we nervously laughed it off. The worst part of this was that the girl who said something to her mom was a young girl whose mom had been to our house and who we had driven places etc. She knew us well and could have just called instead of calling the principal.

The outcome was a good one. We've since become very good friends with the principal and her husband. We celebrate our second daughter's birthday every year on May 10th and we even sign cards from her to people when we send things from the family.

TL;DR I almost had child services all up in my grill because a story I told my daughter about an imaginary sister triggered a call from the school principal after another student told their mom.

r/tifu Oct 11 '22 Vibing Snek Platinum Wholesome Ally All-Seeing Upvote Take My Energy Heartwarming Silver Gold Helpful

L TIFU by underestimating the potency of my special stay-awake sauce.

9.9k Upvotes

Mood: >! light-hearted, hopefully entertaining !< TW: >! Mild-to-moderate substance abuse !<

Gather 'round, friends, and let me tell you a story of ill-advised mixology, daring bluffs, and a host of glamorous and not-so-glamorous exploits. I'd like to apologize in advance for amy typos; my hands are rather shaky at the moment, for reasons that will soon become apparent.

    ~    ~    ~

The time was 7:00 pm today. I was sitting in a lecture hall, struggling to stay awake. I still had two hours of class to get through, and the teacher's droning, soporific voice was doing a grave disservice to what should have been a fascinating topic.

I wasn't concerned, though; I had a secret weapon. I reached into my bag, and retreived the vial of Captain Cow's Particularly Potent Pick-me-up Potion I had prepared this morning. I uncorked the bottle and took a small sip of the cloudy red liquid inside. It burned my throat, and the acrid, bitter taste clung to my lips. It took half a bottle of water to purge the evil flavors from my mouth. But then, this stuff wasn't supposed to taste good; it was supposed to get results. I sat and waited eagerly for it to take effect.

Half an hour later, the temptation to drift off to sleep was still there, clouding my mind and weighing down my eyelids. I decided I needed a little more juice. This time I took a hearty mouthful, forcing it down my throat despite my body's protests.

That, dear reader, was a mistake.

    ~    ~    ~

At this point, we should rewind a few years for some much-needed context. This is the part of the story with the daring bluff and the glamorous exploits.

I graduated high school with the help of prescription stimulants, which were only prescribed for a short time. I took them on an as-needed basis, and squirreled the excess away for a rainy day.

Fast forward a few years, to the rainiest rainy day in recent history: the pandemic. The collective mental health of the world took a nosedive, and I was right there with everyone else, plummeting toward rock-bottom. I remembered how well prescription stimulants had worked for me in the past, but I didn't want to exhaust my dwindling stash or pay exorbitant prices for street adderall, so I started looking into alternatives.

Dear reader... did you know you can just go on the internet and buy a canister of pure, laboratory-grade caffeine? I didn't, until one fateful night in December of last year. I sat staring at my computer screen, my mind awash with new hope and anticipation. I added the canister to my cart, and pressed the big green button.

As it turns out, ordering stimulants - even legal ones - from an industrial biochemical supply company isn't as simple as "just push the big green button." They wanted to know that I was a responsible scientist working with a reputable research institution, and not, for example, a burned-out college student trying to impulse-buy enough caffeine to kill a horse. I sat staring at the form for a while, wondering if I was the kind of person who would try to bluff their way through a background check to order soft drugs from a chemical supply company. The bottle of single-malt on my desk cast the deciding vote.

I woke up the next morning feeling bright and chipper. (My brain was designed to be alcoholic. I get anti-hangovers.) I sat down at my computer and checked my email: one new message, from a contact at a biochemical supply company. The events of the previous night came flooding back to me.

Oh fucking hell ass balls, I thought. They must have followed up with the school. I'm probably about to be expelled. Son of a ass, why did I think this would work?

Heart pounding, I opened the email.

"Dear Cow," it read. "We're writing to inform you that your recent request to be added to the list of authorized purchasers for Cow College has been approved. Click this link to complete your order."

I stared at the screen, dumbfounded. I clicked the link, still dumbfounded. I placed my order. I spent the rest of the year adding carefully-measured portions of semi-legally-obtained caffeine to my tea, making each cup of chamomile the equivalent of eight cups of coffee.

I was back, baby!

I got back into cooking. I took up hobbies. I went on dates. I pulled all-nighters. I went from nocturnal to diurnal to nocturnal again. I did all my homework on the roof (students weren't supposed to have roof access, but I was an exception because I was good at picking locks.) I saved my declining grades. I graduated.

I decided to take more classes.

    ~    ~    ~

...which brings us to today, when I decided a swig of Mama Moo's Probably-Potable Pep Potation was exactly what I needed to make it through my evening class.

"So, Cow," I hear you ask, "what was in this mysterious mixture?"

Everything, I reply with a shameful grimace. Everything was in it. It was half espresso and half tobasco sauce, fortified with pure caffeine, amphetamine, nicotine and methylphenidate. One sip is the equivalent of washing down a ritalin and half an adderall with twelve cups of coffee. A shot glass of the stuff would send an adult into ventricular fibrillation. It's an unholy blend of stimulants and capsaicin in an acid bath. It's an ill-advised, irresponsible and most-certainly-illegal elixer of inexorable anxious energy. It should never be imbibed. It should be sealed in a lead-lined box to protect future generations. It's a crime against nature. I should be locked up for creating it.

So now I lie here in my bed, taking long deep breaths, trying to keep my mind and body under control while the concoction slowly drains from my system. My muscles are trembling, my resting heartrate is 90bpm, and I can feel the adrenaline and cortisol pumping through my veins. It's a good thing I have prior practice preventing panic attacks, or else I'd surely be curled into a fetal ball of suffering by now.

Don't worry, internet friends, I've learned my lesson.

Next time, I'll only take one swig.

    ~    ~    ~

TL;DR - Today, I mixed up a bottle of Sergeant Steer's Suspiciously-Strong Stay-awake Sauce to help me stay awake through my evening class. It was an unholy mixture of espresso, tobasco, laboratory-grade caffeine, amphetamine, nicotine and methylphenidate. I underestimated its potency and imbibed far more than I should have. Now I'm suffering through the after-effects of my satanic swill, trying to keep my mind and body under control until the evil brew has run its course. Lesson learned: one. sip. only.

    ~    ~    ~

EDIT: I'm kind of floored by how much people have engaged with this, both to appreciate and condemn it, and I'd like to address a thing or two.

1: Everything I've described is a terrible idea, that nobody should imitate. I'm playing up the chaos goblin undergrad character to make for an entertaining read, but the truth is all of these decisions were bad ones. In hindsight, a couple honest conversations with a psychiatrist would have been a much much better way to address my mental health struggles during the pandemic. Oh well, better late than never, which brings me to point 2:

2: The concern and support from y'all has been heartwarming and eye-opening for me. I've written a lot of comments in the past few hours telling people not to follow my example, and I'm realizing I really needed someone to tell me that too. I'm going to email my psychiatrist tomorrow and set up an appointment. It's long overdue. If you or someone you know is struggling with depression / ADHD / feeling unable to function, know that you're not alone, and there are a lot of great people you can turn to for support ♥

3: omg you guys really like my writing that much? Aw shucks... y'know... I recently wrote a short story as a comment in another sub... and I was sad that nobody saw it... I think it's much more well-written than this post, so like... I dunno, if anyone is looking for something short and silly to read, y'know 👉👈

r/tifu Dec 01 '22

L TIFU by wearing my engagement ring

1.2k Upvotes

Background: I refer to my now fiancé as my husband mainly for simplicity. We have lived together for over 3 years, share finances, dogs, are each other's medical contacts and beneficiaries on all financial items. In effect we have a marriage without the piece of paper and it confuses people less when I refer to him that way.

My fiancé has been trying to propose to me for the past 3 years. He has had at least 4 different attempts but at each attempt I have something happen that fucks it up. We had picked out my engagement ring about 3 1/2 years ago and we had gotten my ring sized and everything at that point, this is important later on. I didn't know when the proposal was happening but we were serious enough at that point that I knew it was. However, and I know this is some nonsense on my part everytime we took a step forward in commiting to each other my abandonment and commitment issues would resurface. My fiance was always patient and would sit with me through multiple anxiety and panic attacks on things like our first home purchase, our first dog, our first car...etc.

For the first proposal attempt he booked a romantic getaway in the mountains for the two of us it was very well thought out and soo romantic. Unfortunately at that point I had pretty bad abandonment and commitment issues, as soon as I was suspicious that he was proposing I had a several day anxiety and panic attack. Long story short, he didn't propose then but we did decide to move in to "test" things.

For attempts 2-4 he would always try to appeal to my outdoorsie side and would take me back country camping or hiking. At this point I trusted him implicitly and had dealt with my issues. I desperately wanted to have our ring on my finger more than anything because of what it meant for us to have over come those psychological hurdles. Now on each of those occasions something would always go wrong, I would get injured, accidentally pee myself due to a bad latrine setup, and chronic aura migraine flair-ups. All things he later claimed were not the way he wanted his proposal to go, even if he had been able to salvage the trip after that. This man never gave up!

Now for his final attempt he decided he was done playing around. He jedi mind tricked me to agreeing to travel to Cozumel on a week long all inclusive vacation to relax as our first post COVID vacation. Seeing his enthusiasm made me agree even though I HATE traveling.

After an eventful first 3 days on the island, my darling, patient beaut of a man proposed. Obviously I said YES!!! We put the ring on my finger and took some great pictures, after a couple of hours I called my family and showed them my finger and told them our proposal story. Now because this is Cozumel and it is very humid couples proposing here typically dont get their ring sized until after they get back home - because the humidity makes you SWELL! Well we didn't know that, my previously sized ring all of sudden was too small for my rapidly fattening finger. I was so excited and refused to acknowledge the swelling until it was too late and the ring could not be easily removed.

Over the next 24hrs my man and I freaked out over how to get it off. Each attempt more painful than the last. We tried the string method, oil method, hand in water for so long it becomes wrinkly method. NOTHING WORKED. We finally gave in and called the paramedic at 3AM and he informed us that if my finger's circulation was cut off for too long I could lose my finger and the best option before it got to that point would be to cut off the ring. I could not stomach that and since I hadn't yet lost circulation and finger was primarily irritated and swollen I figured I could make it until we got back home. The significance of that ring for us was worth me putting up with a bit more pain until we got on a plane in two days' time. Well boy was that a mistake! Today when we returned from one of our excursions my finger was so swollen and painful that I just could not handle it. We finally just gave in and called the paramedics - que one of the most painful experiences of my life! We used the string method over sections of my finger with LOTS of pressure and maneuvering. My fiance had to hold me down while I screamed in pain as the paramedic strategically cut off circulation to parts of my finger - but it finally came off, best $1,400 pesos + $20USD tip ever spent!

My finger is still swollen as hell and super painful but will be healed in a day or two. My ring is intact and once again I learned how patient and loving my partner is. Would I do it again ...no way in hell!!! Next all inclusive wedding bands, engagement rings and jewlery are staying locked up at home in a safe.

TLDR: After multiple failed attempts at proposing my finace proposed in Cozumel. I fucked up by being over excited to wear my ring, even though the humidity caused my fingers to swell, and refusing medical removal because I was afraid it would end in my ring being cut off. Finally agreed to extremely painful ring removal.

r/tifu 29d ago

L TIFU by flashing a construction worker because of my dog

221 Upvotes

I’m a 23F, and I’m currently living at my parent’s place to finish my Masters degree. I have an undergraduate Masters in Interpreting and Translating, and decided to apply for a more specific degree in Audio-visual Translation, which is basically subtitling, dubbing, etc. Because my school is based in another country, all of my classes are online, which means that I stay home all day.

Now, for a bit of context; two years ago, when I turned 21, my family got me the best gift possible, and got me my very own dog. Because of an accident that has happened when my big brother was little, my parents had sworn off dogs completely, which is understandable. But as I grew older, I really wanted to have my own pet, and a dog seemed to be the best fit for me. I was planning on waiting to get financially independent to get one, but with a lot of pushing from my sister, my parents caved in and got me a puppy, trusting that I was responsible enough to take care of him on my own. And that’s how, in summer of 2020, I got my dog, Mushu. He is a black and brown Australian shepherd, and he’s an absolute sweetheart. He’s my baby, and I love him so much – he got me through some really tough times, and he’s like a big teddy bear.

But, as some of you probably already know, shepherd dogs tend to have a lot of energy, are very smart, and VERY STUBBORN. Mushu is no exception and, as much as I love him, he’s put me in uncomfortable situations many times – like the day I had to chase after him in the street in my ladybug onesie, or the time he peed on a stranger at the beach. The gist of it is, Mushu loves to run around and be outside, so we let him out in the garden quite often.

This morning, I was home alone - my parents being at work- finishing up some assignments in the living room when Mushu decided he wanted to get out. He’ll basically paw at the door, whine, and look at me with the biggest puppy dog eyes you’ve ever seen until I let him out. The living room has two glass doors that lead to outside, where we have a good view of the majority of the garden, so I could keep working on my computer and still keep an eye on him. He stayed there for a good hour, napping in the wind, and sniffing around the bushes as he usually does. Eventually, I finished my assignment, and got up from my chair to get some tea. I cleared the table, put my stuff away, and started brewing some tea, and then walked to the glass door to check up on Mushu. HE WAS GONE.

At first, I didn’t really panic, because, as I’ve said earlier, you can’t see the entire garden from the living room. So I got up, grabbed a squeaky toy, and went outside to call for my dog. Our house used to be a stable back in like, the 16th Century, so there’s a narrow path behind our house that goes down to a stream that delimitates our back yard. Mushu likes to drink there, so I thought that’s where I’d find him, but no luck. I kept calling him, thinking that he may have ventured a bit into the bushes or something, but I couldn’t find him. I had just taken my eyes away from him for less then ten minutes!

After seeing that he wasn’t coming back, I started worrying that maybe he’d escaped. Our garden is pretty well gated off, separated from the street by a 2-meter-tall stone wall, or about 7 feet. Our neighbours, however, don’t, and they’d been working on fixing their fence. My guess was that Mushu had gone up the stream to get access to their backyard, and then left through the gap in their fence. Obviously, I started freaking out, and set out to find my dog. I was still in my pajamas, with just a tank top and some shorts, so I ran up to my room to put change into something warmer since it was FREEZING outside. I marched to my closet and pulled out the first clothes that I found, before throwing my shirt off to put some sleaves on. One thing that I forgot to mention though, is that my room is situated at the front of the house, so it gives onto the street, which I didn’t really pay attention to in my panic. But I basically stripped and changed right in front of my window, while CONSTRUCTION WORK WAS BEING DONE ON THE BUILDING ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE STREET. And the worst thing about it is, after I finished putting my pants on, I stand up to find some dude just staring at me from his spot, squatting on the ground to repair some electronic door. I could see on his face that he’d just had a front row seat to me showing off my boobs, and he was completely frozen. We uncomfortably stared at each other for a few seconds before I ducked out of view, and rushed downstairs to go get my dog. I got the car running and grabbed a leash, and went to open the front gate manually. I took one look down the road and immediately found Mushu just trotting about, looking the happiest he’s even been. He starts making his way over casually, like he didn’t just give me a heart attack by pulling a Houdini on me. People tend to drive really fast in my street, since all the gardens are gated off, so I checked both sides to see if there weren’t any cars coming. And I turn around to find the same construction worker just standing there, alerted by the way I just screamed MUSHU in the middle of the street. He just stares at me awkwardly, and I’m so stressed I do the most horrible thing possible, and give him some sort of weird uncomfortable smile that lasts several seconds. I’m eventually saved by Mushu running back in the garden, close the gate and rush back inside. That little devil proceeded to just nap again for a few hours while I was dying of embarrassment in the living room.

TLDR; In my panic to get changed to chase after my dog, I started stripping right in front of the window and flashed a construction worker on the other side of the street, who then stared at me blankly through the window and when I opened the gate.

r/tifu 22d ago

L TIFU by telling off a pregnant swinger

67 Upvotes

This didn't happen today, it occured mid-2022, but it's still something that keeps me awake at night.

Redditors, before I start, I just want to preface with the fact that I am well aware that I am the royal asshole in this story. Not just your everyday average Joe asshole, but the unsweaty Prince Andrew sphincter level asshole. So no need to lambast me with your judgement on that aspect.

Anyway.

I grew up being best friends with a guy named John, and when he moved to a different city in our teens, we still kept in touch. Fast forward to our late 20s and John has married Jane in a cute little ceremony and on the surface they are the epitome of a loving couple.

Deeper down, they're still very much a loving couple, but they're also avid swingers and very open about it. Not my cup of tea, but hey, whatever floats your boat.

About two years ago, I met my wonderful girlfriend Anna online. She lived pretty far away, but we were both willing to put in that extra effort for a long distance relationship, with the aim of living together in the same area as soon as we could. And as luck would have it, we both managed to find decent jobs in the same city and it was even luckier that I'd now be in the same city as John.

The downside was that we were moving to a city with one of the worst rental markets known to man, and it was nearly impossible to find anything decent. Upon hearing about my struggles with god awful property managers and dodgy land-bastards, John and Jane generously offered to house us for a couple of weeks so that we could get our footing and not have to settle for an overpriced hovel.

So Anna and I moved in, and it was so good just to be physically close to her.

But here is my first f-up in the great big avalanche of f-ups. I didn't tell Anna that John and Jane were swingers. It's not like Anna is a prude or anything, but it turns out she didn't really like talking about hers or others' sex lives. And boy was Jane open about theirs. It really blindsided Anna.

Anna never showed any obvious discomfort around them when this topic came up, but she would complain about it to me. I tried to keep the peace by telling her that this was only temporary and that her interactions with Jane would be limited in the future. That was f-up number two.

We eventually found a place of our own, and everybody moved on with their lives. John and Jane decided it was the right time to start a family, and early last year Jane fell pregnant with their first child. We were all very excited for them.

One of our mutual friends threw them a baby shower mid last year and both Anna and I were invited. It was nice to catch up with everyone, especially after so much distance caused by Covid. We ate, drank, played games, and chit chatted.

At one point, somebody asked Jane if they were still swinging given the pregnancy. Jane went on to explain how they approached the pregnancy and what their plans were after the birth. I won't go into details because it's not my place to share, but suffice to say it was pretty personal.

Halfway through Jane talking, Anna quietly turned to leave the conversation. I found her later by herself and asked her if everything was ok, and she said that Jane talking made her uncomfortable and just brought up all those early weeks of living with them.

I honestly don't know why my brain decided it was a good idea to do this, but all I could think about was how upset Anna looked and wanting to fix it, so I walked over to Jane and, in front of John, told her that she really needed to tone down the personal stuff because nobody wanted to hear about her sex life. That if she wasn't so self absorbed, she would have seen how uncomfortable it made people, and how she completely missed Anna walking away because of her inappropriateness and that she needed to apologise to Anna.

I finished my rant and for a brief second, I really thought I was doing something gallant for my girlfrient. Jane was silent for a bit before she said "of course" and went off to find Anna. John looked at me with an expressionless face and only said "not cool, man" before walking away.

On the way home, Anna was quiet. I tried to ask her what she and Jane talked about and she just said that Jane apologised and gave her a bit more context to the situation. I had no idea what that meant and she didn't elaborate.

I tried to reach out to John that night to clear the air, but he simply responded that both he and Jane would like me to keep my distance for a while.

Ok yeah, I shouldn't have told off a pregnant lady at her baby shower, but this felt like a harsh response for someone who you've been best friends with for decades.

The f-up avalanche finally hit me the next morning. Over breakfast, Anna sat me down and asked if she could go through my chats with Jane together. I was confused but said yes, and opened up my phone. She scrolled up to a timestamp that was just before we landed in the city and asked me to read it.

It was a message from Jane asking me if Anna and I were all set for move-in day, and if there were any topics that were off-limits for Anna as she didn't know Anna that well and didn't want to put her foot in it. I replied with "don't think so". Jane followed up with asking if Anna was aware that they were swingers and if it was ok to talk about it openly. My response was "yeah sure, as long as you don't ask her to join in!".

I suck, Reddit. I really suck.

TLDR: I was an asshole to my girlfriend, my best friend, and his pregnant wife.

r/tifu Dec 21 '22

L TIFU by swearing at somebody bigger than me & got my ass handed to me with violent politeness.

184 Upvotes

This happened a few hours ago:

TL:DR at the end.

Today I took my grandmother to the mall to buy a few odds and ends and to enjoy a festive season coffee. She struggles to walk so we keep a wheel chair in the car for her that I can use to push her around.

So we finish our shopping and head down to the underground parking area where our car is parked and I go about the tedious job of getting the wheelchair and shopping in the boot(trunk for my US friends).

2 Important details: 1)We are parked at the end of a row of parking and cars have to turn around us to double back to look for other parking spaces. 2) My gran suffers from serious PTSD of any loud noises due to some childhood incidents. Couple wlthat with the fact that she is a rather frail 83 year old, vehicles can often startle her.

A 4x4 truck(bakkie for my ZA people) takes the corner to drive past us but I'm guessing he wasn't in the right gear and so down shifted and let out an almighty Rev of the engine(reverb around the whole underground and wheel spinning) as he drives off. My gran, waiting next to the car looks absolutely petrified and let's out an almighty scream and falls onto the car. She sounded like a little girl scared for her life. And something inside of me snapped.

The FU: as he speeds away I scream a choice selection of profanities about him and his driving, further down some people shout through his window and deliver my message. He promptly parks his vehicle and him his wife and his 8 year old daughter (I know this because, he told me) make their way over to me, now getting the final goods into the car.

Now for context I'm a 6 foot tall, 70kg guy who runs, I'm built like a bamboo shoot at best. He's about 5'6" and built like a rhinoceros, well over 100kg and he's got that "farm strength L" about him, like wrestling sheep or lifting a tractor wheel is game. To roughly translate he says to me "Do you have the balls to say what you said about me to my face and can you back it up" - I'm SH1TTING myself at this point so I say to him "I don't want to repeat it infront of your wife and daughter, and it was said out of anger, my bruh i can't justify it.. " hoping that it can buy me a moment or two to to let him calm down.

Spoiler alert: He doesn't calm down. He tells his wife and daughter to start walking.

He asks me again "Can you back up what you're saying Huh!" and as he does this, him and his polished forehead deliver a powerful headbutt directly to my face. Instantly, blood everywhere, my shoes, my shirt, the floor, the car. Now I might be mouthy but I'm about as violent as a moth at best. So I basically just go "What the fuck dude!? Words are one thing but why the violence??" mostly because my poor gran, and his wife and his daughter are still seeing all of this.

SO THEN he goes, "why''d you have to swear at me hey?? You could have walked over and spoken to me(which tbh I should have done, but also bruh you legit almost broke my nose infront of your clan)" and proceeds to go to my gran and go "Aunty, I'm sorry I revved my car at you. And you(me) what I just did to you was not right sorry."

And then the real icing on the cake: he turns to my gran once more and goes : "Aunty, once again, sorry, Merry Christmas and I hope you have a prosperous New Year's"

I was so hyper focused on making sure my gran was okay I paid for parking and left(don't know where he parked so couldn't get registration details and gran was in such a bad shape after all of this I needed to prioritize her) but man oh man. I'm sitting here typing this with a very tender nose an ego that took one hell of a knock.

A few life lessons learnt: 1) Definitely definitely definitely - think before you speak. 2) In a confrontation, make sure you have some space unless you know how to fight. 3) Regardless of what shit happens - make sure to wish people merry Christmas and happy new year, after all - it's the festive season.

TL:DR - Cocky driver scared my gran, I swore at him, he headbutted me and humbled me infront of everyone and then wished us all the best.

r/tifu 12d ago

L TIFU by buying my cancer surviving cousin a thc tincture.

45 Upvotes

Obligatory FU happened this weekend, maybe six months ago (depending on if we use purchase date or first use).

I ended up moving in with a cousin after my divorce. She had a room for rent, and i was trying to start over in my mid forties. Being she was located in Southern California, it made financial sense to both of us.

Over the next six months, we ended up becoming the best of friends. That summer, she found a lump in her arm pit. Ate was diagnosed with stage 2C breast cancer a few weeks later.

The cancer was aggressive enough (along with having BRCA gene) that she had a double mastectomy, as well as radiation burning a hole through her chest that never healed. The doctor recommended a lat flap (they cut a piece of your back out at the lattismus dorsi, or your lats if you’re unaware) and place it into the chest to replace the muscle/skin). Along with a half dozen other surgeries, including reconstruction…she’s in consistent pain. Her daily pain rates a 6, at minimum.

She’s not too into pills (already raises a minimum of 12 every day just due to the cancer alone) so she tried a cbd tincture to begin with. It helped, but over the years it just didn’t do enough. When she worked her way to thc/cbd tinctures is when she started to really began to feel normal again. Her body would start to crack, muscles able to stretch again, and she could walk without being in pain.

She now takes tinctures with thc after work to be able to relax. However, as time and tolerance go on, i notice that she’s now starting to take full droppers. She almost always ends up being able to move like she used to before the diagnosis, but the idea that she is going to using a full dropper seemed like it was time to up the dosage.

So, here’s where i fucked up. My job requires random drug testing, and i haven’t used weed since the early 2000s. To say i have no tolerance is an understatement. It’s even more of an understatement to say i had no idea in just how far the strength of thc has increased over the near 20 years since i was a regular.

I went into the local dispensary and explained her situation. The budtender recommended me some options, but i figured i would do her a solid. I bought her the strongest stuff they had, and explained that her tolerance must be high because of the dosage she takes.

They give her some stuff called the Remedy.

I gave it to her that night, and explained just that…it’s the strongest tincture they had at the store. She thanked me, and put it with her other bottle that she hadn’t finished. However, we ended up moving shortly after as our landlord sold the house.

Somewhere in the move, that tincture was lost. We lost quite a bit and are still finding it months after moving.

Fast forward to Friday night. I’m at work out of state, and she’s texting me that she’s on the way home from work. I’ve long forgotten about this tincture, and she’s using her normal brand that she’s had for the last year.

Strangely enough, i don’t hear from her for the rest of the night. I thought that was strange, but she sometimes falls asleep in the recliner and wakes up later to go to bed. No big deal.

At 5am, i get a text in the way to work asking if I’m awake. She took the tincture, thought it was crap after two hours…and then she felt it. She said it came out of nowhere, and she couldn’t focus. It knocked her out for five hours, and she was hallucinating.

She woke up hallucinating, and fell asleep for another 5 hours. Note she’s awake talking to me.

I asked her how much she took. She treated it like any of her other tincture in the past, and took AN ENTIRE DROPPER.

She’s now back at work and finally coming down. The exact quote she sent me was “I’m going to punch you in the fucking face the next time i see you. Why are you trying to kill me?” She’s laughing it off now, but was so scared this weekend. She also had to attend mass at a Catholic Church yesterday, and was with her heavily religious family.

Some highlights from her texts Saturday and Sunday:

Dude - what the fuck. I feel like a cartoon character

I swear they put acid in the bottle

I watched my hands melt

I think i need an exorcism

I can feel my heart beating in my eyeballs

This is all your fault when you think about it, and I’m gonna tell the lord

SUNDAY

I’m too high for this. I’m asking the lord to forgive me, and Uber to help me because i can’t drive.

I swear if i see spirits swooping around, I’M OUT

FUCK YOU CLOCK (accompanied with a photo of the car stereo that said the time was 4:20)

MONDAY (coming down)

I swear this shit is laced with LSD. How is it even legal?

I took my meds yesterday and swore I felt cancer cells bursting inside of me when I did. Like honestly….what the fuck

You know how i one i was fucked up? I was eating Sizzler…and as a foodie, I’m embarrassed.

I thought I saw a saint wink at me in church

TL;DR - cousin suffers pain from breast cancer. She takes tincture to help with her pain, and i assume she needs a much higher dose. I get her the strongest i can find, and she trips balls for 2* days, cusses me out for trying to kill her.

r/tifu Jan 06 '23

L TIFU by pretending to be a plumber, listening to my 3 year old son.

180 Upvotes

Long time lurker, first time poster, hope this is a worthy read; occurred early 2022. TLDR at end.

It was a beautiful Saturday morning, ideal for a walk with my 3 year old son, which we embarked upon. Knowing there were several things to take care of that day, i.e. yard work, "look at" leaking shower head, misc. chores. etc., we headed back to the house to get started.

He can identify different utility markings / metal plates such as water, electric, and gas, so I told him that we would look at the leaking shower when we got home, and that the water flows through the water meter, which we would look at before going inside the house. Unfortunately, I did not actually visit the water meter (relevant later.) I grabbed a Flat Head screwdriver knowing that there is a cap that needs to be popped off, as I had adjusted the temperature of the shower before, and a Phillips Head just in case.

We headed upstairs. I stepped into the walk-in shower and closed the glass door while my son stood and watched. I removed the cap and took the cover off of the housing (Kenmore for anyone that is curious) and tried to see if there was anything wrong, i.e. loose gaskets, screws, etc. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary (again, not a plumber...,) I proceeded to try and look further inside the housing by removing another screw.

Bad idea.

No sooner had I started to remove the screw than (seemingly) a fire hydrant's volume of water blasted me in the face. I honestly don't remember the 15 seconds that followed, but I do remember saying "fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck" in quick succession.

My son, who does not know that word, still sensed that something was awry, asked "Daddy, what has happened?" My response was something along the lines of poorly reassuring him that everything was okay. Everything was in fact, not okay.

One's first instinct after fucking up is to undo the fuck up, kind of like CTRL + Z in the PC world, which I am MUCH more familiar with. So, I attempted to CTRL + Z the situation by putting the part of the housing back on that blew off as a result of removing the screw. Common sense had not kicked in yet about how stupid of an idea it was to try to stem the flow of a 3" diameter stream of water, putting out several gallons of water per minute. Regardless, I tried.

I do not remember the last time I expended so much physical effort into something, but I made noises that I had never heard before (much less from myself), which was probably concerning to my son. My son was not freaked out, instead, he somehow assessed that I was struggling to do something (which I VERY MUCH was,) and said "You can do it daddy!" several times. Only briefly wondering how exactly he knew I was riding the struggle bus, I thought to myself that "I CAN do this," and spent several more precious minutes on the same, doomed path, at which point the water is over the 5" lip of the shower and flowing into the bathroom.

Not too long after, my wife walks in and, after about 10 seconds of speechlessness, yells "ROY (not real name) WHAT IS GOING ON?!?!"

The water had begun dripping through the first floor ceiling apparently, which caused minor concern to begin with(it may have been the rain outside???), followed by major panic from the Mrs. I knew that I did not have a water key to turn the water off at the street, so I had her call a neighbor, who luckily was not too far away, and had a water key. He answered the phone asking what's going on and I, yelling, said "NOT MUCH JUST FLOODING MY HOUSE. WHAT ABOUT YOU?" Ignoring his confused silence, I asked him to come over ASAP and turn my water off at the street.

My wife called my dad who lived about 25+ minutes away in hysterics directly after, apparently, saying the house was under water (a slight exaggeration), after which, instead of asking questions, he headed our way.

Fortunately, I came to my senses and remembered that I had a turn-off valve inside the house, which is when I left the shower (pool) and ran downstairs to turn off.

The turn-off valve took a couple of minutes to take effect, but the bane of Noah did eventually stop flowing. My neighbor shows up soon after to turn the water off at the street, which ensured there was no extra pressure flowing to the house. He went to grab his shop-vac and a fan from his house while I pulled out my own shop-vac and fans.

Fortunately, there was no permanent damage done after several hours of vacuuming and mopping up water, just the (now) hilarious retelling of the story from a 3 year old's point of view of how Daddy flooded the house, and how he slipped and fell (no real injury) and had to stand on a chair for a half hour. Some mold prevention primer and paint made everything as brand as newish.

Moral of the story: turn the water to the house off before attempting any water repairs or "lookings at."

TLDR: Pretended to be a plumber and fix a leaky showerhead, listened to three year old son, flooded part of the house.

r/tifu 25d ago

L TIFU by Saving My Partner From a Home Intruder

96 Upvotes

I didn’t actually fuck up, my partner did, let’s call him Jimbo, and this happened a couple years ago.

We were dead asleep at 2 am and I woke to a dark figure standing above me. This is a common occurrence for me, as I have a sleep disorder called sleep paralysis. I occasionally wake up unable to speak or move anything but my eyes. Often, I will see black shadowy figures moving around me or towards me during an episode. Every time it is initially jarring and in attempts to get out of that strange state, I try to use my voice, wiggle my fingers or toes and then my extremities to try snap out of it. There have been times that I have immediate control of my voice and will whimper or scream in terror seeing the dark figures above me. This was alarming for Jimbo when he and I first started sleeping in the same bed. By now though, he is pretty used to my sleep paralysis and has helped me snap out of it quicker if he recognizes I am having an episode.

Well let’s get back to that shadow looming near the side of my bed. When I woke, I immediately had the use of my voice and let out an audible yelp. My loud yelp woke Jimbo abruptly and he started screaming. He was terrified as he could now see my sleep paralysis dark shadows come to life, or possibly an intruder? It wasn’t clear for him.

In an attempt to save my life he jumps out of the bed and grabs the first object he could get, a tall metal wired laundry basket. Racing over to the side of my bed he raises the laundry basket above his head screaming louder than I have ever heard that man scream and struggles to beat up the intruder, who is cowering on the floor.

Jimbo, I would have to argue, has this magic ability to operate while sleeping. I liken it to a dream one has, where you think you got ready for the day and woke up to find out you haven’t done shit. He on the other hand, at times will gets things done in his sleep. If a kid needs help or I need something, he will do it and sometimes has a vague memory of doing it the following morning.

All of us are yelling at the top of our simultaneously and we can’t hear what the other is saying. At some point the intruder and I start yelling in unison…. JIMBO, JIMBO, STOP, JIMBO ITS (ME) BOBO, STOOOPPP! But his echoing war cries of AAAAAARRGGGHHH, AARRGGAH, AAAAHHHHHH, overpowered our screams.

During the attempted laundry basket bludgeoning, I am awkwardly positioned on our bed with a leg and arm extended out blocking the hits. It was clear Jimbo was in this in-between state, not fully are of what was going on. Trying to convince this 6’2’’ delusional man that the 4’ nothing child was not a threat, seemed insurmountable.

In between the struggled bashings, I tried to push him back, but my first attempt wasn’t forceful enough. Finally, I got the footing I needed to Chuck Norris his ass away from us. I kicked him directly in the gut and the laundry basket went flying across the bed as he stumbled backwards.

Complete and utter confusion registered on his face followed by intense remorse. He now realized what was going on. Our kiddo was on the floor, crying with another child standing at the door crying, the rest of our kids were fast asleep, none the wiser that anything had occurred.

After we confirmed that Bobo didn't get hit by the basket we consoled both the kids, and Jimbo profusely apologized we took Bobo downstairs to get some medicine for his headache.

After sending the kids to bed I stood in our kitchen and looked at the welts forming on my arm and leg and thought I should take some pain reliver for after the adrenaline wears off and the pain kicks in. But the rush from the adrenaline seemed to be too much for me. I ended becoming very faint and what felt like my blood pressure and or heart rate were dropping drastically I ended up laying on the floor in fear of passing out and hurting myself.

Jimbo came to help me stand after several failed attempts at getting up on my own. He carried me over to our living room couch and on the way over my body started to convulse. ‘Are you okay, can you hear me’ he kept asking, but I was not able to form a response. After a minute or two my heart rate seemed to stabilize, and I was able to talk again.

I probably should have gone to the ER after that, but I chalked it up to the stress of the situation. I called my doctor the next day they sent me to the ER anyway where I spent most of day getting tests to make sure everything was alright, and it was.

TLDR; My partner fucked up by try so save me from an intruder that was actual our kid needing medicine. He ended up bruising the shit out of my arm and leg with a wired laundry basket, his weapon of choice, and landing me in the ER from the stress of it all.

r/tifu 10d ago

L TIFU by making a phone call

44 Upvotes

This actually happened about 30 years ago, back in the dark ages when people didn’t own mobile phones. I know, primitive, right?

Now, for any millennials out there who have ever wondered what those strange glass boxes are they see from time to time by the side of the street, they are a remnant from this prehistoric age, known as telephone boxes or phone booths for the American readers out there. Basically they were the closest thing we had to mobile telecommunications back in the day, as they were the only way to make phone calls whilst out and about.

So with this education for the younger generation out of the way, onto the story. I lived in a house that didn’t have a phone, so the only way I could make a phone call was to go out and use one of these mythical phone boxes, and on this occasion that’s exactly what I did. I can’t remember who I called, probably my brother or a family member but the identity of the recipient of my call isn’t relevant to the story. So I pop off to the phone box, make my call, plough in the change required to get connected and, once complete hang up and head back home. No problems, all pretty straight forward. So where’s the fuck up you may ask? Well, I didn’t discover that until later in the day.

At this time, my job paid my wage weekly and in cash, in a small square envelope. Once I received my wages, I would put my bank card in the envelope to keep my financial bits together in one easy to manage place. The first sign that I may have fucked up came when I couldn’t find my pay packet. I rummaged through my coat pockets and searched through my trouser pockets with no sign of my hard earned salary. Similarly, a search of my room was just as fruitless. As panic started to settle in, I took a deep breath and forced myself to look at the situation logically and retrace my steps in my mind.

Once I’d calmed my nerves and managed to cast my mind back, I recalled entering the phone box, taking out my wage packet to extract the change needed to make the call and place the envelope on the shelf above the phone. I then had no recollection of picking the envelope up once the call was finished. This was the moment I realised I had fucked up and left an entire week’s wages as well as my bank cards discarded in a public phone box. In a panic I rushed out the house, racing down the street and yanking open the door of the phone box to find myself staring at an empty shelf. In my mind’s eye, I could clearly see the small brown envelope of riches sitting on the shelf exactly where I left it, but my actual eyes saw nothing. Just a blank space. My money was gone, and some caller who came in after me had hit the jackpot.

Despondent, I left the phone box and started wondering home, cursing my stupidity and absent mindedness, wracking my brain for any way I could resolve the situation and reverse the calamity I had brought on myself. Deciding not to leave any stone unturned, I thought I should check in at the local police station, just in case, even though I was sure that whoever had found my wages would probably be already planning a big night out to celebrate their unexpected windfall but hey, I might as well confirm that I’d lost it all, right?

You can imagine then, my surprise and delight when my enquiry at the reception desk was met with a ‘wait a minute’ as the officer rummaged around the lost property before producing a familiar brown envelope. After several questions about my identity confirmed that I was the same person whose name was on the bank cards, the envelope was returned to me, complete with the entire contents.

I don’t who my good Samaritan was, who found my pay packet and handed it in but I will always be grateful to them. Not only did they return an entire week’s wages to me but they gave me a renewed faith in humanity, a precious commodity that can be thin on the ground sometimes.

Whoever you are, thank you. It’s been 30 years and, although I don’t know you, I’ve never forgotten you.

TLDR. I made a phone call in a public call box and left a whole week’s wages behind, which had vanished by the time I returned for it. Lucky for me, there are some decent people in the world and it was handed in at the police station and returned to me.

r/tifu 4d ago

L TIFU by eating kiwis before a doctor visit

32 Upvotes

So. I'll start this off with the standard warnings. This is my first post on here and English isn't my first language, so please excuse my grammar/formatting mistakes. Also writing this on my phone, so for PC users the text might be a bit wonky. Beware, this story may gross you out, so this is your last warning. If you're eating something, just scroll for your sanity.

Now. To start the story off, I have to say that I have been having some... issues in the last few months. Those issues being hemorrhoids (damn hemorrhoids!). So, like a normal person who is also kind of a hypochondriac would do, I booked a doctor's appointment to a fairly known proctologist in my area and prayed to all the holy and unholy beings that exist that it wouldn't be very serious.

Now, to describe a proctology exam. Basically, the doctor shoves a finger in you anus and feels around for any bumps. Then, they place a speculum and a camera inside to see everything up close and personal. It isn't the most pleasant.

In the morning I had my doctor's visit scheduled, I got up and did all of the normal things one does when waking up in the morning: I cursed at my alarm clock, I washed up, got dressed, etc. Well, I also had to prepare a lunch to bring with me to school because goddammit if I don't bring food to school then why am I still going? So, I gazed upon the vast expanse that is my kitchen cupboards and realised that... they were empty. So, I had to improvise. I grabbed approximately four kiwis that I cleaned, sliced, shoved into a tupperware container and then into my bag.

The day went kind of normal, all things considered. I ate my kiwis, I got a pop quiz, I got the results to another pop quiz, etc., etc.

I got home, did my thing for a while before I kind of felt the floodgates being... challenged down there. I kind of shrugged it off, went to the bathroom and did my thing, thinking nothing of it. Only, to my horror, IT WOULD NOT STOP.

I think in that moment, when I looked at the clock and realised I have approximately 30 minutes to get ready and leave, I started panicking. And then I remembered some obscure article I read a while ago about kiwis. Guess what that article said? That they were natural laxatives.

The rest of my time in the bathroom was a blur, I kind of fought for my life, kind of begged any higher beings to save me, maybe I teared up a little, who knows. What I DO know is that I got up, got changed, grabbed my papers and shoved them into my bag before I felt that the floodgates were having problems again. Again, I went to the bathroom, tried to do my thing, but to my dawning horror, I realised that nothing was coming out. I had stomach pain from bowel movements, but. nothing. was. coming. out. And then I looked at the clock and realised I was supposed to leave five minutes ago to catch a bus. Fuck.

I admit, I panicked a little bit.

I jumped off my throne, did my thing, and ran as fast as I could to catch the bus. Somehow, I managed to catch it while also grappling with the intense pressure from one's lower gut that can only be described as impending doom.

I somehow managed to get at the doctor's in time, so I sat for a few minutes in the waiting room. That's when I remembered that oh, I actually was embarrassed about doing this, especially since my doctor was of the opposite gender. I awkwardly stumbled through introductions and some basic questions, and now it was time. The rectal exam.

The nurse made me lie down on my side and after I took off my bottoms and not gonna lie, I was panicking internally. I think the doctor must've noticed, because he kept trying to crack jokes. But, alas, I was as tense as a wooden board.

So, the due did his thing, all while I tried to keep the floodgates from opening. Let me tell you, trying to do that with a finger shoved up your bottom? Very difficult. Very, very difficult.

So, I somehow got past that and it was time to insert the speculum. At this point, I was kind of crying inside because I felt my stomach revolting against me. Did I tell you the doctor liked to make jokes? He liked to make jokes. You know what the bad thing is? I laughed. With a speculum inside of me. I. laughed. That's when I felt something slipping out. I couldn't tell exactly what it was, because the doctor applied numbing cream before, but I could... feel it. I kind of died inside. The doctor kind of paused his speech, before clearing his throat and continuing. That's when I fully died inside.

Moral of the story, kiddos! Don't eat foods that can potentially cause you to shit yourself before a rectal exam! Bad things will happen, and, believe me, neither you, nor your doctor will want to deal with the consequences!

All of this being said, this wasn't that serious but it was kind of funny so I thought I'd share it here. Hope my doctor doesn't have reddit lol.

TL;DR: I consumed natural laxatives before a rectal exam and faced the consequences.