my favorite compliment i’ve gotten at college was from a drunk frat boy who said i had “the body of the girl of his dreams” then paused and held up a hand to stop me from saying anything and continued “…..but the haircut of the boy of my dreams”
Suzanne Sadedin, Ph.D. in evolutionary biology from Monash University
I’m so glad you asked. Seriously. The answer to this question is one of the most illuminating and disturbing stories in human evolutionary biology, and almost nobody knows about it. And so, O my friends, gather close, and hear the extraordinary tale of:
HOW THE WOMAN GOT HER PERIOD
Contrary to popular belief, most mammals do not menstruate. In fact, it’s a feature exclusive to the higher primates and certain bats*. What’s more, modern women menstruate vastly more than any other animal. And it’s bloody stupid (sorry). A shameful waste of nutrients, disabling, and a dead giveaway to any nearby predators. To understand why we do it, you must first understand that you have been lied to, throughout your life, about the most intimate relationship you will ever experience: the mother-fetus bond.
Isn’t pregnancy beautiful? Look at any book about it. There’s the future mother, one hand resting gently on her belly. Her eyes misty with love and wonder. You sense she will do anything to nurture and protect this baby. And when you flip open the book, you read about more about this glorious symbiosis, the absolute altruism of female physiology designing a perfect environment for the growth of her child.
If you’ve actually been pregnant, you might know that the real story has some wrinkles. Those moments of sheer unadulterated altruism exist, but they’re interspersed with weeks or months of overwhelming nausea, exhaustion, crippling backache, incontinence, blood pressure issues and anxiety that you’ll be among the 15% of women who experience life-threatening complications.
From the perspective of most mammals, this is just crazy. Most mammals sail through pregnancy quite cheerfully, dodging predators and catching prey, even if they’re delivering litters of 12. So what makes us so special? The answer lies in our bizarre placenta. In most mammals, the placenta, which is part of the fetus, just interfaces with the surface of the mother’s blood vessels, allowing nutrients to cross to the little darling. Marsupials don’t even let their fetuses get to the blood: they merely secrete a sort of milk through the uterine wall. Only a few mammalian groups, including primates and mice, have evolved what is known as a “hemochorial” placenta, and ours is possibly the nastiest of all.
Inside the uterus we have a thick layer of endometrial tissue, which contains only tiny blood vessels. The endometrium seals off our main blood supply from the newly implanted embryo. The growing placenta literally burrows through this layer, rips into arterial walls and re-wires them to channel blood straight to the hungry embryo. It delves deep into the surrounding tissues, razes them and pumps the arteries full of hormones so they expand into the space created. It paralyzes these arteries so the mother cannot even constrict them.
What this means is that the growing fetus now has direct, unrestricted access to its mother’s blood supply. It can manufacture hormones and use them to manipulate her. It can, for instance, increase her blood sugar, dilate her arteries, and inflate her blood pressure to provide itself with more nutrients. And it does. Some fetal cells find their way through the placenta and into the mother’s bloodstream. They will grow in her blood and organs, and even in her brain, for the rest of her life, making her a genetic chimera**.
This might seem rather disrespectful. In fact, it’s sibling rivalry at its evolutionary best. You see, mother and fetus have quite distinct evolutionary interests. The mother ‘wants’ to dedicate approximately equal resources to all her surviving children, including possible future children, and none to those who will die. The fetus ‘wants’ to survive, and take as much as it can get. (The quotes are to indicate that this isn’t about what they consciously want, but about what evolution tends to optimize.)
There’s also a third player here – the father, whose interests align still less with the mother’s because her other offspring may not be his. Through a process called genomic imprinting, certain fetal genes inherited from the father can activate in the placenta. These genes ruthlessly promote the welfare of the offspring at the mother’s expense.
How did we come to acquire this ravenous hemochorial placenta which gives our fetuses and their fathers such unusual power? Whilst we can see some trend toward increasingly invasive placentae within primates, the full answer is lost in the mists of time. Uteri do not fossilize well.
The consequences, however, are clear. Normal mammalian pregnancy is a well-ordered affair because the mother is a despot. Her offspring live or die at her will; she controls their nutrient supply, and she can expel or reabsorb them any time. Human pregnancy, on the other hand, is run by committee – and not just any committee, but one whose members often have very different, competing interests and share only partial information. It’s a tug-of-war that not infrequently deteriorates to a tussle and, occasionally, to outright warfare. Many potentially lethal disorders, such as ectopic pregnancy, gestational diabetes, and pre-eclampsia can be traced to mis-steps in this intimate game.
What does all this have to do with menstruation? We’re getting there.
From a female perspective, pregnancy is always a huge investment. Even more so if her species has a hemochorial placenta. Once that placenta is in place, she not only loses full control of her own hormones, she also risks hemorrhage when it comes out. So it makes sense that females want to screen embryos very, very carefully. Going through pregnancy with a weak, inviable or even sub-par fetus isn’t worth it.
That’s where the endometrium comes in. You’ve probably read about how the endometrium is this snuggly, welcoming environment just waiting to enfold the delicate young embryo in its nurturing embrace. In fact, it’s quite the reverse. Researchers, bless their curious little hearts, have tried to implant embryos all over the bodies of mice. The single most difficult place for them to grow was – the endometrium.
Far from offering a nurturing embrace, the endometrium is a lethal testing-ground which only the toughest embryos survive. The longer the female can delay that placenta reaching her bloodstream, the longer she has to decide if she wants to dispose of this embryo without significant cost. The embryo, in contrast, wants to implant its placenta as quickly as possible, both to obtain access to its mother’s rich blood, and to increase her stake in its survival. For this reason, the endometrium got thicker and tougher – and the fetal placenta got correspondingly more aggressive.
But this development posed a further problem: what to do when the embryo died or was stuck half-alive in the uterus? The blood supply to the endometrial surface must be restricted, or the embryo would simply attach the placenta there. But restricting the blood supply makes the tissue weakly responsive to hormonal signals from the mother – and potentially more responsive to signals from nearby embryos, who naturally would like to persuade the endometrium to be more friendly. In addition, this makes it vulnerable to infection, especially when it already contains dead and dying tissues.
The solution, for higher primates, was to slough off the whole superficial endometrium – dying embryos and all – after every ovulation that didn’t result in a healthy pregnancy. It’s not exactly brilliant, but it works, and most importantly, it’s easily achieved by making some alterations to a chemical pathway normally used by the fetus during pregnancy. In other words, it’s just the kind of effect natural selection is renowned for: odd, hackish solutions that work to solve proximate problems. It’s not quite as bad as it seems, because in nature, women would experience periods quite rarely – probably no more than a few tens of times in their lives between lactational amenorrhea and pregnancies***.
We don’t really know how our hyper-aggressive placenta is linked to the other traits that combine to make humanity unique. But these traits did emerge together somehow, and that means in some sense the ancients were perhaps right. When we metaphorically ‘ate the fruit of knowledge’ – when we began our journey toward science and technology that would separate us from innocent animals and also lead to our peculiar sense of sexual morality – perhaps that was the same time the unique suffering of menstruation, pregnancy and childbirth was inflicted on women. All thanks to the evolution of the hemochorial placenta.
“At 23, JK Rowling was broke. Tina Fey was working at the Y.M.C.A. Oprah had just gotten fired from her first job as a TV reporter and Walt Disney had declared bankruptcy.”—Read This If You’re 23 And Lost by Heidi Priebe (via twentysomethingstate)
It’s fine to want things, but don’t act like you’re a victim because you want high quality stuff without having to pay higher prices for it lol.
it cant just be me who finds it rather jarring and unnerving that a 34 year old man and self-described “libertarian” wrote this post and yet it still gained some kind of traction
what bras aren’t overpriced though like by all means let me know
bras that you entitled “feminists” want: shiny, $50, money that could go to third world kids who need water bra made of papier-mâché and elmer’s school glue: does the job just fine, basically $0.00, checkermate feminists
ok but why do cis dudes always do this lmao… why do cis dudes constantly feel the need to argue with women about how much it costs to be a woman. has it occurred to a single one of them that how the fuck would they know? jfc
I have NEVER found a bra in my size for less than 50$ so bye
on the VERY RARE occasions i have found a bra for less than $50 in my size, they’ve fallen apart quickly and they hurt like hell. have you ever worn a bra, dude? apparently not. the cheap ones HURT. also, the cheap ones invariably come in small cup sizes. i do not have small boobs. bigger boobs = more expensive bras. you try bra shopping sometime.
whenever someone talks shit about the cost of bras, it almost ALWAYS turns out to be a cis dude who’s never had to purchase one or experience the shopping hell that is bra shopping in his life
i just bought 5 bras, plain and boring as hell,
ON SALE, and they still came to $170 before shipping and cross country/border duties. Once you added that in (because they don’t have that store here, and the sizes here cut off at 44), each bra came to $45
WHILE. PLAIN. AS FUCK. AND. ON. SALE.
shut your ignorant fucking mouth
As a plus size woman, let me educate you on the price of my favorite bras that are in my size, cover all my boob, and keep them in place. Mind you, I require all these things since I am a teacher and I work with seventh graders therefore not wearing a bra is not an option, and the only kinds of bras I fit in are plus size bras. I’m a fucking DDD, only certain stores carry my size and I fucking need bras.
So, the bras I like:
Soma’s Balconet Bra (comfiest, best coverage for my chest fat sacks)
MAN LOOKS LIKE THAT BRA IS $60 FUCKING DOLLARS.
What if I want to minimize these fuckers?
GEE. TWO BRAS FOR $120. MAN, I MUST BE A PICKY BITCH. LET’S SEE IF I CAN FIND A DDD BRA ANYWHERE ELSE. OH WAIT, I CAN’T. BECAUSE I HAVE BIG TITS AND I GET PUNISHED FOR THEM.
So, after much hassling from my parents and my dear roommate, I went in to talk to my physics teacher and I went “So, it’s come to my attention that I’m way too ADHD to be getting as much out of this class as you seem to think I should be, do you have any tips.” Because, you know, sitting in a classroom watching a teacher derive equations on the board for an hour doesn’t play great with attention issues and a total inability to sit still. It also causes problems on exams with a strict time limit for obvious reasons. And like it’s not that uncommon an issue so, foolishly, I assumed that he would have literally any help at all to offer me.
He suggested that I make sure I’ve done the reading before every class, in detail, so that I won’t have to pay as much attention in class since I’ll ‘already know the material.’ Because clearly reading between twenty and fifty pages of extremely dense physics textbook is going to go so much better. CLEARLY the best solution to attention deficit problems. OBVIOUSLY. The more fool ME for not thinking of it, right? Who wouldn’t think of that as the obvious solution to ADHD? God, Moran, what are you even doing with your life if you’re not meticulously doing the reading for everything? Because God forbid I realize that doing the reading is literally useless to me, even in classes I give even a single iota of a fractional fuck about as anything except a mandatory requirement.
Since I’m probably abusing sarcasm at this point: I just want to punch him in his smug asshole face. Really hard. A lot. Also the next time he laughs at me for not getting something I might actually flip a table.
I love seeing people heal on here. I saw you talking about suicide in June and now you can’t stop smiling. I saw you swear off relationships in March and now you’re planning a wedding. Man, the storm don’t last forever. I’m proud of y'all.
I swear, so often this site is like a weird little window into peoples’ lives and personal journeys because we put our saddest most awful thoughts on our blogs we’d never share anywhere else and so nobody in our ‘real lives’ even KNOWS the struggles and therefore, the amazing triumphs we’ve had, how hard we’re fighting, but I see this and I see people I follow overcome horrible shit nobody should ever have to even have nightmares about feeling, not once in their lives
but then I see them come out of it - or don’t, but live with it, and stick around for just one more day, and keep trying and living and just, every single fucking day, no matter how painful, my most common emotion here when I look at my friends is I AM SO PROUD OF YOU, PLEASE KEEP GOING.
I’m very glad that movies like Pacific Rim and Fury Road and The Force Awakens are as colorful as they are, because I am really, really tired of desaturated movies.
GOD ME TOO.
My buddy, my guy. Come close and listen to me.
You can have an apocalyptic, gritty, brutal movie with color. Really. You can. I promise.
ok but did every kid have a certain historical time period that they were REALLY into?? like I was super into the california gold rush when I was 9 for no reason
Fuck I’m walking downtown and I pass a group of guys staring at me and I think “great catcall time” but then one guy goes “you look like you could kill a man a million different ways with just your bare hands”. This. This is an acceptable comment to give a girl on the street.
Slytherin:
Family crests and ballet lessons, a perfume your grandmother picks for you. Black coffee in Paris at 7 in the morning, champagne in New York in the evening. Cashmere sweaters, turtlenecks and high waisted skirts. Heavy diamonds and chins held high. Upper east side, Monaco, shopping in Brussels. Lying through clenched teeth. Northern lights. Hiding pain and using people. Contradictions. Daisychains. Richard Siken. Glitter socks. Learning French. Louboutins. Traditions and secrets. Green and Silver.
Gryffindor:
Hands on fire, bandaids and ginger ale. Treehouses and make believe. The kissing of wounds to soothe the pain. Stardust, bruised knees, pinky swears. Sunflowers and David Bowie. Lightning, thunderstorms, tornadoes. Too much energy; too much caffeine. The smell of a bonfire, the crunch of first snow, laughter resonating through crisp winter air. Fingers intertwining and whispered gossip followed by giggles. Supernovae. The roar of a sportscar's engine. Truth or dare. Courage and morals. The knight in rusty armor who forgot his horse at home. Red and gold.
Ravenclaw:
Kneesocks, Sylvia Plath and the dusty smell of books. Paint drying on fingertips and hair in every colour of the rainbow. Oxford dictionary, the louvre, shadowpuppets. Dancing in the rain, overthinking, posters and empty canvases filling dorm rooms and adorning bedroom walls. The first touch of a paintbrush, forget-me-nots, hunger for knowledge. Metaphors. Fanfiction. Black boots and leather jackets. John Lennon sunglasses. Tartan. Poetry. Blue hair and black lipstick. Creativity and curiosity. Blue and silver.
Hufflepuff:
Promises and shooting stars. Giggles, goosebumps. Stolen kisses behind the quidditch field. Bumblebees and libraries, fiery hair and squad goals. Shared breakfast, tutoring. Growing. Security. Those friends you can tell everything, and they will never judge. Libraries and open fields. Golden retrievers, the smell of sawdust and hay, horse riding. Roadtrips. Study groups. Ivy League. Scholarships. Humble, soft, friendly. Loyal and smart. Stubborn and accepting. Yellow and black.
does anyone else ever unintentionally read a negative review of something you rly like and you have to consciously make an effort not to internalize it and trick yourself into hating the thing you loved 2 seconds ago
Like men are able to get away with never expressing of requesting help with their feelings because women are trained from a very young age to observe men, watch for signs of emotional need and environmental stressors and deal with them without being asked. It’s why women worry constantly about emasculating the men in their lives but men never worry about “efeminating” the women in their lives.
Men are “stoic” only because they don’t have to communicate in order to get their emotional needs met.
i….
…….have never read something that explains my family dynamic so well
This describes the past several MILLENNIA, including why so many men only really communicate with their bros.
For those of you who don’t already know, there is a petition going around to actually stock binders in stores (like Walmart/Kmart/Target etc.)!!!
ALSO, people who don’t bind. Please, can I have your attention?
Here is your chance to exercise your allyship. Sign this petition. It can be very, very difficult for people who bind to get access to effective binders. They often resort to harmful things (like tape) that can break their ribs or suffocate them.
Please, sign the petition. You will be saving someone from immeasurable pain.
ONLY 560 TO GO
Please. It’s fucking impossible for most people who need binders to find them easily, this would help so many god damn people
do u ever just think about the fact that molly weasley saw HARRY POTTER, the boy who defeated voldemort, and went “i’m gonna knit this kid a christmas sweater”
what i love thinking about is
in the book ron says he told his mum that harry wasn’t expecting any christmas presents and that’s why she sent him them
and knowing ron can be a bit scatty/oblivious he probably didn’t mention it til like two days before christmas
so i just like to think of molly sitting up all night knitting harry his sweater and baking him homemade fudge or whatever because she’d be damned if she’d let harry go present-less at christmas
Or maybe Harry is just as dismissive. Like, Ron is dreaming aloud of him mom’s homemade fudge and asks Harry what he wants and Harry shrugs “the Dursley never give me anything, last year I got a half-used eraser” and Ron is like 0_0 because what, no one is going to give a gift to his new best friend? So he takes poor Errol telling Percy it’s an emergency and Percy’s like no! and Ron’s like HARRY NEVER GETS CHRISTMAS GIFTS YOU GIT and Percy’s like Oh. Ok. Write mom. And Ron’s letter is mainly MOM HARRY NEVER GETS CHRISTMAS GIFTS FROM HIS MUGGLES WHAT DO I DO and then it’s December 23 at night and Arthur is ready to go to bed and sees his wife get the yarn and the knitting needles out again and Honey I thought you were done? Did we get another child while I was at work? YES, she answers, furious. Ron’s new friend, little Harry. If I get this done by tomorrow morning I can make a batch of fudge and send Errol back with it. And that’s when Arthur Weasley realized they did get another kid when he wasn’t looking but, honestly, once you went past the five kids mark you stopped counting.
“
Did we get another child while I was at work?” “YES”
So the whole point of the Pirates movies is Captain Jack Sparrow is trying to find a way to become immortal. What if the last movie in the franchise ends with him achieving that somehow. Then the movie goes to a montage of Captain Jack dancing through history doing all sorts of shenanigans. He keeps creating new identities and showing up in different settings. We see Jack with bootleggers, with Elvis, pitching the Pirates ride to Walt Disney, maybe he has a beer with Wil Turner and the Beatles, anti war protests, all over the place and then the movie ends. Then the end credit scene opens at a film studio. Young hopefuls are standing in line for some sort of audition. We see captain Jack in the line. When it’s his turn he walks in and sits in front of the casting people and introduces himself as Johnny Depp. The casting director tells him he’ll be reading for the part of Jack Sparrow when he interrupts her with a, “I think there’s supposed to be a ‘captain’ in there love” and then the movie cuts to black.
This is GREAT because usually movies about immortals are all angsty, “boohoo, I’m immortal, boohoo.” But not motherfukcing Jack Sparrow. He’s having the time of his life and he’s rocking the SHIT out of it
This is what your dash looks like if you fall for the Tumblr April Fool’s Joke.
I know some of my followers might have vision sensitivities, and as this background is a rather bright color, I wanted to warn everyone.
If you don’t want your dash to look like this, do NOT click on the “This Is Decision 2016″ voting link. It will take you to a page where you vote for a lizard, and once you do, it changes your dash to look like the above.
If you’ve already fallen for it, there is a way to revert to the default dash. Underneath the spinning “Decision 2016″ graphic on the sidebar, there is a link to opt out.
“nothing will ruin your 20’s more than thinking you should have your life together already.”—I need to write this on every wall of my room. (via thisyearsgirls)
since it is trans day of visibility, we should do more than just post selfies (and essentially copy blackout). today i will try to be posting resources, history, and transition stories. there’s nothing wrong with posting some selfies today, but please don’t make that the only thing we do today— this is a very important day, and is more than just selfies. blackout was a celebration of beauty our society often deems unworthy; trans day of visibility should be about making our community, history, and siblings known.
a small list of resources for the moment:
trans people who are in a serious situation, such as being suicidal, or being abused, etc. can contact the trevor project. they have a lifeline that is 1-866-488-7386 and an online chat room.
the trans 100is a list provided by GLAAD of inspiring trans americans.
we happy trans is a website that provides happy trans stories!
a longer list of resources from GLAAD can be found here
“Fanfiction is what literature might look like if it were reinvented from scratch after a nuclear apocalypse by a band of brilliant pop-culture junkies trapped in a sealed bunker. They don’t do it for money. That’s not what it’s about. The writers write it and put it up online just for the satisfaction. They’re fans, but they’re not silent, couchbound consumers of media. The culture talks to them, and they talk back to the culture in its own language.”—Lev Grossman (via stefanitran)
shout out to mentally ill students who are still trying their hardest to get amazing grades despite dealing with symptoms
shout out to mentally ill students are are just going through the motions and even though they know they want good grades they can’t bring themselves to care
shout out to mentally ill students who take time off and skip homework because they need to put their mental health first
shout out to mentally ill students who don’t want to get a diagnosis because they’re afraid it will impact their future careers
shout out to mentally ill students who have to juggle homework with therapy sessions and any other extracurriculars they do
shout out to mentally ill students. you rock my world.
*bursts through your door* Do you wanna talk about Connor Kent??? Because my roommate inflicted Young Justice on my poor unknowing soul and I have a lot of feelings about this poor wandering test tube child???
ANON. We can ALWAYS talk about Conner Kent. ALWAYS.
Like, what aspect of Conner do we need to discuss? How he looks identical to Clark as a teenager, except around the eyes (because blue or green, those are Lex’s eyes)? How he inherits the weight of Clark’s losses (a world, a family, innumerable languages, innumerable cultures, an identity), as well as the weight of Lex’s expectations (schemes, stratagems, and understated goals: kill your father, replace your father, be better than your father, be human, be my weapon, be my son.) Sixteen years old–one month old–and he’s dragging around his inheritances like an iron ball and chain. How even with the enormous weight of all he is heir to, this poor fucking kid has nothing. No family, no connections, no driver’s license, no home, no closet full of clothes, no nostalgia, no music to soothe him, no movies he loves. He’s got nobody, he’s got NOTHING, he knows NO ONE, but he’s got Lex’s eyes and that big fucking S on his chest and no one will ever just meet him, no one will ever just know him.
And then WALLY GODDAMN WEST TAKES HIM HOME, OKAY. I AM SO EMOTIONAL ABOUT THIS. WALLY WEST TAKES HIM HOME AND IS LIKE ‘HEY MOM, DAD, SUPERBOY’S GONNA SPEND THE NIGHT OKAY’, AND WALLY’S PARENTS JUST SHRUG LIKE ‘OKAY OUR SUPERPOWERED KID HAS WEIRD FRIENDS’ ONLY THEN THEY SLOWLY REALIZE THE DEPTH OF EVERYTHING CONNER DOESN’T HAVE; WHAT CONNER DOESN’T KNOW. LIKE. WALLY’S MOM PUSHING FOOD ON HIM. CONNER SITTING AT THE DINNER TABLE, SCOWLING AND CONFUSED, WITH LIKE TEN SLOPPY JOES IN FRONT OF HIM. WALLY’S MOM TAKING THEM TO THE MALL AND WATCHING HOW UTTERLY FUCKING HELPLESS CONNER IS AT ALL THE CHOICES, LIKE, HE CHOOSES THE EXACT SAME SHIRT, THE EXACT SAME PANTS, THE EXACT SAME BOOTS, IN FIVE IDENTICAL PAIRS. THE JACKET IS THE ONLY EXTRAVAGANCE SHE CAN TALK HIM INTO. (GOD. HOW FUCKING MUCH CONNER LOVES THAT LEATHER JACKET, LATER ON. THE WAY IT’S WORN SOFT IN SOME PLACES AND STIFF AND SCRATCHED IN OTHERS, THE WAY IT READS AS ARMOR BUT WRAPS AROUND HIM COMFORTABLE AND WARM. THE WAY NEITHER LEX NOR CLARK WOULD EVER WEAR ANYTHING LIKE IT.) AND LIKE, WALLY SETTING CONNER UP ON HIS BEDROOM FLOOR AND PUTTING ON THE TV. WALLY INTRODUCING CONNER TO, LIKE, JESUS, I DON’T EVEN KNOW. TEENAGE BOY SHOWS. THE WALKING DEAD? CONNER AWKWARDLY CURLED UP IN A SLEEPING BAG WATCHING WALLY WATCH THE WALKING DEAD, WHILE WALLY GIVES HIM A RAPID COMMENTARY. JUST. COME ON. WALLY AND CONNER. AND THEN LATER: KALDUR AND CONNER, AND DICK AND CONNER, AND ARTEMIS AND CONNER AND, OBVIOUSLY, M’GANN AND CONNER.
…was that what you wanted to talk about, anon? because i could go on
If you see someone in a wheelchair stand up or walk, just keep your mouth shut. They either were prescribed that wheelchair and their insurance agreed they needed it, or they became so desperate for the mobility the chair would provide that they paid a lot of money out of pocket (because they don’t have insurance or they have a shitty ableist doctor or whatever).
It’s estimated that around 85% of full time wheelchair users can stand or walk to some extent. Think of it like glasses: the majority of people who wear them can technically see without them, but they reduce pain, improve the quality of the wearer’s life, and enable millions of people to do things they otherwise couldn’t. A wheelchair is no different. In fact, even part time users legitimately need their chair, just as people who need reading glasses legitimately need their glasses. In addition to paralysis, some reasons for using a wheelchair include pain, fatigue, fragile joints/bones, vertigo, and many, many other debilitating symptoms.
Using a wheelchair is already stressful enough as it is, thanks to iffy accessibility. Please don’t add to a disabled person’s difficulties by calling them a faker.
