Up until the last week or so, I always used to say that even if I’m having a hard time, I am not ready to die. I want to see what happens next.

I no longer want to see what happens next, I see no good outcomes at all for the future of the world, not just the US.

The next time around. Sure, Jan. it’s over.

A dad point of view, while precious in delivery, doesn’t really translate very well in this scenario if you’re anything but a cis white male. The cis white men will be fine like they have been fine for thousands of years.

Same. All it made me think of was that show The Leftovers (I think??) where you just see clumps of people staring at other characters while dressed all in white and chain-smoking.

Millennial parental apology fantasy… oh man I really love this.

Oh, surely there must be another way! No thank you! 🙃

And they manage to get poor people on board by tying their policies to Jesus and Family Values. And it works like a charm and it’s so weird.

Planned obsolescence keeps us consuming.

I initially misread this as 2014 and I am actually surprised I was a bit excited. Like if the past decade was a coma dream or something, wow that would have been ideal. Ah. Anyway.

I’m looking forward to physical therapy rehab in the spring, maybe feeling good and healthy again. And then seeing Taylor Swift in Vienna in late summer. Hopefully by then, Trump is either dead or in prison. Hopefully prison first.

I grew up putting dirty dishes in the sink. They were piled up there until someone either loaded them to the dishwasher or did them by hand. This continued in to my adulthood until I moved outside the US, and it’s like something shifted. We just rinse and load the dishwasher and run it overnight. Now keeping them out in the sink seems gross to me, but I never thought about it before. Same with shoes in the house. Or using a shoehorn.

I’m sorry Sir Kevin did you say ten years? How many do you have that they don’t wear out well before then? This is alarming and/or amazing. We do this too but it’s more like every year or maaaaaybe two if we are stretching it. I’m stuck on ten years, it’s wild, I’m sorry.

This is so true and so sad. It is like eating disorders really truly clicked for me with this statement.

While I now live outside the US and have curbed my eating habits drastically and I am now no longer obese, just on the cusp of overweight/healthy weight, I struggle every day not to indulge in over-eating, as that has been a stress-response my entire life I’m pretty sure. Living abroad has made it easier to fight it because they don’t have aisles upon aisles of ready made crap. And the boxes/bags they come in are pretty small so you can’t eat say, an entire family size box of cheez-its or little Debbie’s because neither of those are even sold here. There is some junk food but variety is extremely limited, so that definitely helps.

Seriously this. I lived in the US for most of my life until 2020 when I moved to Norway. If Americans paid what we pay here for the portion sizes given, they would absolutely riot. It’s so expensive to eat out here and the portion sizes are like, a third of what you’d get in any US restaurant. And that’s okay because…

I lost like 60lbs the first year we were here by simply eating a sensible portion size and not having a shitload of ready to eat mindless consumption snacks in the house. (also walked everywhere. Everywhere.)

Now I can tell who is a tourist just by size alone like 80% of the time (I live in a very touristy city). Brand new sneakers and look to be over 300lbs? Almost always walk by me speaking American English. It’s honestly quite surprising to see a very obese person here and then hear them speaking fluent Norwegian.

No one ever mentions to you as a young girl going through puberty that there’s another one coming in your late 20s-early 30s that will cause you to subconsciously stroke your neck/chin upwards and make smirky faces in your mirror to catch all these hateful manly hairs.

I do this and I see women at stoplights doing this all the time now. But no one clued me in to it as a preteen that it was coming, and that’s rude.

That grief comes in waves.

Bruv I think I might. My soul doesn’t have a shitty back, I’d understand.

For my husband and I to experience even just one day without back pain. It’s debilitating.

How did you come to this realisation that we all reincarnate?

I work in a bakery. I used to be a nurse. But my husband is in tech otherwise I wouldn’t know about Lemmy more than likely.

I feel extremely safe here. It is walkable and transit is excellent.