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Confessions

The Time I Vomited Blood During a Work Meeting

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This happened just over five years ago, but it crossed my mind again today.

My pregnancy with my daughter was as unexpected as it was life-changing. At the time, my husband and I were both 25 and had been told by our doctor that we were medically infertile—he had a low sperm count, and I had PCOS. We were given fertility medication as a first step, with the understanding that further procedures wouldn’t be considered until we’d exhausted these options. Our doctor also mentioned it would likely take about five years to make real progress.

Well, surprise! We got pregnant during the first month of taking the medication.

While the pregnancy was unplanned, it was deeply wanted, and we were thrilled. The only problem? My husband was unemployed, and I was working as a high school teacher in a challenging environment. On top of that, my pregnancy was rough. I experienced constant spotting, dizzy spells, and hyperemesis gravidarum (extreme morning sickness) from week 8 until delivery. I threw up around ten times a day, was hospitalized for dehydration five times, and lost 18 kilograms over the course of my pregnancy. It was brutal.

At work, my department consisted of four other teachers: three “Karens” (yes, the stereotype applies here) and Pete, who was a kind-hearted boomer. The Karens were exactly what you might picture in an Australian public school—gossipy, rigid, and not-so-subtly bigoted. My frequent sick days due to the pregnancy didn’t sit well with them. Even though I never left my work for them to handle, they constantly made nasty comments to my face and behind my back, spreading rumors to other departments. It took a toll on me, both professionally and emotionally. Many times, I considered quitting, though financially it wasn’t a viable option.

The Meeting From Hell

The Karens insisted on having weekly after-school departmental meetings that dragged on for hours, often accomplishing no more than what could fit on a post-it note. Because of my condition, I had missed several, which irked the alpha Karen enough to demand I attend the next one.

Reluctantly, I showed up. We sat in a stuffy room as they gossiped about the latest episode of Home and Away. Midway through, I felt a wave of nausea wash over me. I stood and excused myself, but alpha Karen moved to block the door. “You can hold it for a minute,” she snapped, insisting we resolve a minor detail in a planning document. I looked to Pete for help and asked him to pass me the bin at his feet.

What happened next is seared into my memory.

I projectile vomited.

Blood.

Thanks to the constant vomiting, my throat was raw and irritated, bleeding every time I got sick. My doctor knew about it and assured me it wasn’t as dangerous as it looked. But to anyone else? It looked like something out of a horror film. The Karens froze, their faces pale with shock. Pete let out a piercing scream and yelled for someone to call an ambulance. Meanwhile, I waved them off, saying, “This happens all the time.”

As the dry heaving subsided, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, smearing blood everywhere. Then, with as much calm as I could muster, I turned to the Karens and asked, “Do you still need help with that document?”

They were speechless. I gathered my things and left.

The Aftermath

From that day forward, the Karens never bullied me again. Instead, they spoke to me in the softest, most cautious tones, as if I were a porcelain doll on the verge of shattering. For the rest of the year, their behavior transformed entirely.

It was, in hindsight, glorious.

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Confessions

Am I the Asshole for Making the Nurse at My Hysterectomy Pre-Op Appointment Feel Stupid?

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A tense and awkward scene set in a medical office during a pre-op appointment. A patient, looking frustrated but composed, sits across from a nurse wh.

Apparently, the nurse thought I was rude and combative because she literally noted that in my medical records.

I had a pre-op appointment with my hysterectomy surgeon today. During the triage portion, as the nurse was checking my vitals, she started asking me routine questions. But then she asked why I was choosing such a “drastic” procedure for period pain.

I explained that it’s not just period pain—it’s debilitating. The pain has gotten so bad that walking my 5-year-old to school leaves me on the verge of tears, and I bleed so heavily that I have to plan my kids’ lives around it. I’m exhausted and tired of living like this.

She then asked what I would do if I ever divorced my husband and a future partner wanted children. I responded, “Well, I already have three. They can pick one.” She corrected me, saying, “No, I mean their own child.” I shrugged and replied, “Well, that sucks for them, then.”

She went on to suggest birth control pills to slow the bleeding. I told her that’s just a bandaid solution to the problem. She then proposed an endometrial ablation, and I countered, “But ablation also means I can’t have kids. So what’s the difference? Why not just solve the problem altogether instead of using another temporary fix? Plus, the tissue could grow back since I’m only 32 and still have 15 to 20 years of dealing with this nonsense.”

At that point, she rolled her eyes and led me to the exam room to wait for the doctor. When I got home, I checked my medical notes, as I always do, and found that she’d written I was “rude” and “combative.”

Am I the asshole for how I handled this? The nurse was essentially trying to talk me out of a procedure that my doctor and I have been discussing for over a year.

Edit: Holy wow, I left after 10 comments and came back to 500! I’ve already emailed my doctor about the situation and am waiting to hear back tomorrow.

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Confessions

AITA for Promising My GF I’d Help with Her Loan but Backing Out After She Cheated on Me?

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A dramatic and emotional scene depicting a couple having a tense argument in a modern apartment living room. The man looks resolute and upset, sitting.

I (23M) had been with my girlfriend (24F) for almost four years. She was my first girlfriend, and I loved her deeply—too much, honestly. We were friends in school, and I genuinely thought we’d spend the rest of our lives together.

Early in 2024, she told me she wanted to apply for a master’s program and asked if I could help her financially. Without hesitation, I agreed. At the time, I envisioned her as my future wife and felt it was my responsibility to support her goals.

I approached my father, who is quite successful, and asked if he could help. He agreed but was cautious—he insisted that she take out a loan instead of directly giving her the money. My father promised to cover 60-70% of the monthly payments, and both her family and mine agreed to this arrangement.

Three months ago, everything fell apart. My girlfriend confessed that she had cheated on me. She told me she had gotten drunk at a party, kissed another guy, performed oral, and had sex with him—all in my car.

I was devastated. I loved her so much, but her betrayal crushed me. She apologized profusely, saying she made a terrible mistake and wanted to come clean because she didn’t want to hide it from me. I told her I forgave her, but honestly, I’m not sure if I meant it or if I was just pretending. Since then, I’ve been struggling with depression, hiding it from everyone.

Despite my heartbreak, her family went ahead and took out the loan with the understanding that my father would help with the payments. But as time passed, I couldn’t shake the resentment. I felt like she was expecting me to forgive her completely while also leaning on my family for financial support—using my father’s wealth as a safety net.

A few days ago, I finally told her I was breaking up with her and that she wouldn’t be receiving any more financial help from us. She freaked out, accusing me of being petty and saying she thought I had forgiven her. I simply walked away.

When I told my father about everything, he didn’t comfort me. Instead, he said, “This is why I insisted they take a loan instead of just handing over the money. You’ve learned a lesson.” At first, I was upset by his lack of sympathy, but I’ve come to realize he was protecting me in his own way. He planned for this possibility and always had my back, even if it wasn’t obvious at the time.

Now, my ex and her family are furious. They’re accusing me of ruining her life out of anger and saying I should have broken up with her earlier if I wasn’t going to help. They’ve even threatened to sue, but my father isn’t worried. He pointed out there’s no legal case since it was a verbal agreement and encouraged me to let them waste their time and money if they want to pursue it.

I feel conflicted. On one hand, I don’t regret setting boundaries and walking away after what she did. On the other hand, I can’t help but feel guilty. Was I too petty? Did I go too far in my anger? I’m still processing everything, and part of me wonders if I’ve made the right decision.

AITA?

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Confessions

Am I the Asshole for Not Immediately Confronting My Brother-in-Law About His Tattoo and Asking Him to Leave My House?

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A dramatic and tense scene set in a modern living room. The image shows a family gathering gone wrong, with a focus on the host (a person looking conf

I (26F) recently hosted my husband’s two sisters, their partners, and their children. They live about six hours away and were passing through on their way to a camping trip, so they spent the day with us before continuing on.

One of my brother-in-laws (BIL) and I couldn’t be more different, and to an extent, the same goes for his wife, my sister-in-law (SIL). While she mostly keeps her opinions to herself, he’s outspoken about his political and religious views, often in ways I find uncomfortable. For context, a few years ago, he caused a stir within the family by wanting to plaster political messages on his work vehicles (he owns a business). After backlash from friends and family, he didn’t go through with it but still complains about feeling “silenced” and frequently mocks people who disagree with his views.

Despite all this, we’ve maintained a surface-level relationship. When we’re together in person, he’s generally polite, and we’ve even shared a few laughs over the years. I chalked up his strong opinions to cultural differences, as I’m originally from a less religious country. In eight years of being part of the family, I had never heard him make overtly racist remarks in my presence—until now.

During their recent visit, BIL casually revealed that he had bought a tattoo gun online and had tattooed a small but unmistakable swastika on his upper thigh. He showed it off, joking about how no one would see it because it’s always covered.

I was stunned. My husband and I discussed it quietly in the kitchen, deciding not to escalate the situation in the moment. We wanted to keep the visit civil, especially for the sake of the children.

After they left, SIL messaged me to ask if everything was okay, as she had noticed our reactions. While my husband and I hadn’t yet decided on a course of action, I took the opportunity to express how deeply uncomfortable we were with her husband’s tattoo. I told her we didn’t feel comfortable having him in our home anymore and that any future interactions would be civil but distant. I explained we would focus on her, the children, and my other SIL during visits, but we wouldn’t be staying with them or hosting her husband.

She was very upset and seemed fixated on why we didn’t say anything in the moment if it bothered us so much. I explained that I didn’t want to escalate things or create a scene in front of the children. I also admitted feeling guilty for not speaking up right away and being, in a way, a bystander to his actions.

I don’t regret setting boundaries or distancing myself from him, but I’m disappointed in myself for not confronting the situation head-on. Part of me feels like I failed to act in the moment.

So, AITAH for waiting until they left to address the issue?

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