And yet people deny that we’re decended from the same lineage. If humans didn’t wear clothes, I guarantee some kid would start a grass-in-the-butt trend too.

having the things we could never have when we were young

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

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

Okay, this is something I’m going to have to test. This article left me with more questions than answers, especially when the writer claimed that pregnant sims can’t woohoo or take a pregnancy test. I can’t tell if they mean since this patch pregnant sims can’t do those things, or if they haven’t played the game enough to know that those things are false. The fact there’s a question mark in parentheses doesn’t help.

Also, the screenshot showing a child not be able to do something because they’re “pregnant” doesn’t necessarily mean the sim is pregnant - it could well be a bug related to how the menu is displayed, which sounds possible since it seems to be occuring across the board. The article is about sims being pregnant, but not about them having babies, and I find that an odd distinction.

But I have this game, and the patch is already downloaded. Let’s see if I’m a lucky winner and this bug shows up.

To game for science!

Edit: I tried with a fresh, new, mod-free game file. I tried with an old game file both with and without mods. Alas, I was unable to recreate this glitch in my game.

FYI, the Sims 4 version is Wicked Whims.

But I find mods in generally have become difficult to maintain since EA starting putting out a new patch seemingly every week.

This is why my parents dismissed my childhood diagnosis of ADHD. My older brother has the hyperactive type, but I am more of the inattentive type.

The outside is calm, but the inside is a tornado of thoughts that doesn’t cease.

Invasive species are something else. They can cause active harm to an ecosystem and are crucial to look out for, especially in sensitive areas. Just because “life finds a way” doesn’t mean destroying a niche habitat is okay.

Is it okay for someone agender to join in this discussion?

I relate to some of these, but I don’t experience dysphoria. I was raised female but I feel zero attachment to any particular gender expression.

Some things that come to mind:

• Never minding when somebody called me “one of the guys”
• Finding it funny when people mistook me for a boy
• I was always fascinated by medical shows, especially ones where people transitioned
• Fantasizing about freely switching between genders
• I used to make up stories with my dolls where people switched genders. Most of my Barbies got their heads swapped with Kens at some point in time.
• I hated make up. Still don’t want any. Whenever someone put make up on me, I lamented that I “didn’t look like me.”
• Dressing androgynously and choosing androgynous hair cuts
• Purposely shopping for “men’s” clothes to add to my wardrobe
• Being offended when people wanted to give me a “make over.” I guess this is something girls are supposed to be excited about, but I always thought it was a judgy way to say something was “wrong” with how I presented myself as a woman.
• Not feeling attached to any particular pronoun. I don’t like being asked about it, because I truly do not care.

My appearance is unequivocally female today, but it’s not something I care hard enough about to change. It would require significant top surgery. If I lost my breasts I think others would be more upset than I would be - I’d just double-down on the androgynous look I had before these puppies grew so much. I have told friends (both trans and cis female alike) that I’d happily donate breast tissue to them if I could.

Anyway, so that’s an agendered woman’s experiences.

Never shaving my beard, because I don’t want to see what’s underneath. Using it as a mask to hide behind.

This is very interesting. I have two MtF friends who both went through a period of having handlebar mustaches prior to transitioning. One of them hated looking in the mirror, and experimented with facial hair as a way to distract from her adam’s apple.

The first time I took an online IQ test was when I was about 12 years old, around 2001. Even then, when I got back high results, I thought, “They probably make everyone’s score high, to encourage them to share the test. I’m going to take this result with a grain of salt.”

I never shared it, because I didn’t trust it. I soon learned that IQ tests are culturally biased anyway, and later on learned about the more up-to-date multiple-intelligence tests.

Seeing a grown adult taking and sharing an online IQ test in this day and age, my inner 12-year-old is rolling her eyes. It seems like someone is desperate for validation.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(I lived.)

Phew Thank you for that closure.

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

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

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

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

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

Oof, this happened when my family went tubing down the Delaware River. It was the first time in my life that I was grateful women’s bathing suits include a top, as I got burnt horribly, but I didn’t end up with as much burn as the guys in my party all did. My poor, Canadian boyfriend looked like a tomato at the end.

Even if all the original copypasta were true, they’d still be more useful and less harmful than billionaires. So if you still need something to throw rocks at…