Monday, October 2, 2017

It's None of Your Business, but I'm All Left


“Your little guy is so cute. How old is he?”
“Thanks, he’ll be 4 in November.”
“Are you thinking of having any more?”

Ooh, so many ways to respond to this question:

“Nah, being a mom’s kind of a buzzkill.”
“I’m really focusing on my career right now.”
“Is it really appropriate for you to inquire about my sex life?”
“That’s not really any of your business, is it?”

I’m not really that offended when people ask me this question. I get it. I have one kid, clearly my parts work, it should be pretty simple to just have another. I mean, the first one came out of thin air, so it seems safe to assume the second one would, too. Depending on my snark level that day, any one of those answers would probably work. But, if you really want to open this can, let’s jump right in:

I was pregnant in January. On February 8, I started bleeding and cramping. I took three ibuprofen, but the pain continued to escalate and become so severe that I agreed to go to the ER (bill #1, because nothing ever happens during normal business hours). Upon entering the ER, they asked me to fill out paperwork, stand on a scale, give them a long description of why I was there – all things I could not do, because I was in the process of dying from the pain. (Some of the most unfeeling human beings on the planet in the ER, my goodness). A few different morphine-like pain killers later, I was calm enough to endure an hour long trans-vaginal ultrasound (bill #2), after which a nurse came in to tell me she was going to administer a rhogam shot.

“A rhogam shot? I’m miscarrying, why are you giving me a rhogam shot?” (Rhogam is what they give you when you have an rh-negative blood type so that you and your baby’s blood doesn’t kill one of you, or something, whatever. I was miscarrying, so I didn’t need a rhogam shot.)
“Oh, did no one tell you?”
“Did no one tell me what?!”

Twenty painful minutes later, a radiologist came in to tell me that my baby was totally fine. There was a heartbeat and everything. The pain I was experiencing was from a ruptured ovarian cyst, I was going to be fine, though no one could tell me where all the blood was coming from, but I was going to be fine, get some rest, you’re going to be fine. Fine.

I slept the rest of the morning in the hospital (bill #3) and woke up with a new pain. This time it covered my entire abdomen, so I assumed it was constipation pain from all the narcotics. I’m no stranger to constipation, so I figured it best that I go home, rest, take some Miralax, poop. I’ll be fine, everything’s fine.

I went home, all right. I went home to puke up some Miralax and spend the next twelve hours in alternating fits of screaming pain and hydrocodone-induced naps.

Back to the ER we went (bill #4 - less than 24 hours after my first trip, because, of course nothing ever happens during normal business hours). It’s determined by way of an MRI (bill #5) that I have an ectopic pregnancy to be removed by surgery (bill #6) the following morning. And by the way, if you’re on the fence about being claustrophobic, spend 15 minutes in an MRI machine while enduring the worst pain of your life. That should clear up your suspicions.

Upon waking from anesthesia (bill #7), the first thing I hear is “blah blah blah, removed the ovary… blah blah… and the fallopian tube… blah…”

Turns out, not only was I not miscarrying, I also didn’t have an ovarian cyst rupture OR an ectopic pregnancy! Instead, the pain was being caused by --- OVARIAN TORSION! Along with kidney stones, ovarian torsion (and its brother, testicular torsion) can be infinitely more painful than anything else a human will physically experience in their lives. Unmedicated childbirth was super fun by comparison.

The surgeon looked almost giddy as he came into my hospital room.

“Do you want to see what we found? We got pictures!”
“I guess. Okay.”
“Yes! Look! That’s your healthy ovary over there, (he pointed to a white splotch amongst a lot of moist pinkness) and that’s your non-healthy ovary and fallopian tube there (not needing to, but pointing at the big, giant, purple, bruised, nasty, unmistakable splotch amongst a little bit of moist pinkness).”

While my left ovary was in perfect, tip-top shape, my right ovary was three times its normal size, had twisted around the fallopian tube a few times, and wanted the hell out of my body.

Recovering from my first surgery ever wasn’t horrible, I guess. I had the added benefit of also being pregnant, so the meds mixed with morning sickness was a b*tch, but the worst was over. The discomfort of incisions and not being able to get up to go pee on my own was nothing compared to the pain before the surgery. Tyler’s mom even came to help out with Coltrane, so I even had a full-time maid/nurse/mom/friend at my beck and call.

Two weeks later, I started bleeding again. Just a teensy bit, but I still thought it best to make an appointment with the surgeon to be sure (bill #8). Before the nurse even turned on the ultrasound machine, I knew, but then the image popped up on the giant screen right in front of me. A note to you OB/GYNs out there: when a woman comes into your office who might be miscarrying, turn off the giant screen that’s connected to your ultrasound machine. I can get pretty dry, emotionless, and sarcastic with every other part of this story, because what do I need with an extra ovary anyway? But, this part? The part where I had to see it? Where I had to see that little gummy bear not move at all? Not float in the middle of that little sac, but just lay there on the bottom? I could have done without seeing that. My intuition and your tech’s silence and fake friendliness was plenty confirmation.

“You have three options: you can let it pass on its own, take some medication to get things moving more quickly, or we can schedule a D&C.”
(Thinking to myself, that’d be bill #9), “I think I’ll just let it pass.”

I didn’t cry until I called my mom on the way home. (My mom, the woman who buried two infants, exactly one year apart, then miscarried, and then decided she’d try again? I endured a tiny fraction of what she endured, and I wanted to hand in the towel.) Then I called Tyler and texted the few people we had told, “No more baby.”

Tyler’s band was scheduled to go on tour that week, and I insisted that he go. He deserved to go do something on his own after all this craziness, and I assured him I’d be fine. I mean, a miscarriage is just like a heavy period, so the internet says. No big deal, I could handle that on my own. Emotionally, I need time alone to process things anyway, so it made the most sense for him to go. But, guys, the internet is wrong sometimes.

On Tyler’s second to last day on tour, I woke up around 4:00 am thinking I had peed my pants. I walked into the bathroom, sat down on the toilet, and in the tiny bit of light coming through the window, I could tell, that was not pee. Every few seconds I felt a gush, while I sat, half asleep, repeating over and over, “this is too much blood, this is too much blood.” I called the doctor, I called the hospital, I called my dad, I read website after website – the only information I gleaned was that if you fill a pad in less than half an hour, you need to go to a hospital. A mattress pad couldn’t have held all the blood that was coming out of me. Also, I was alone, Coltrane was asleep in my bed, and I knew that if I passed out on the toilet or died, that would be very, very bad. I called the only three friends I have in Idaho Falls, even though it was only 5:00 in the morning, one answered and came over right away. Bless that saint of a woman.

Have you seen Moana? Remember that scene at the end when Te-ka, the giant fire-breathing lava monster is freaking out because something was stolen from her? Well, that was me when I entered that effing ER (bill #9) for the third effing time in two effing months. And, since I wasn’t in physical pain this time, I could communicate loudly and clearly why I was there and how I felt about it. Nothing ever happens during regular business hours, and just to make things even sweeter, the ER was staffed entirely by men. Men, with their one little organ (prostate) that might go bad when they turn 60. Meanwhile, women have five (wait, it’s four now for me!) things that could kill them at any moment from the time they hit puberty and on. I realize what a ridiculous prejudice this is now, but at the time, I wanted them to know how little they understood about what I was going through and how dumb it was to have zero women on the schedule.

I still don’t know if that much blood is normal. Not one of those men seemed to have a clue, and I forgot to ask the woman that did the D&C procedure that afternoon (bills #10 and 11), but at least, now I know – if you miscarry pretty much any time after 6 weeks, don’t let it pass on its own. It could turn into a bloody, violent, terrifying, and traumatic disaster, of which doctors should inform their patients.

I don’t write this post for the pity or condolences. I purposely have said very little about this experience because “I’m sorry for your loss” is not helpful for me. I like to swim in my misery alone for a while, then bury it deep in the ground, and then resurrect it at a later time when I’m feeling stronger. No, I’m writing this because I really wished I’d had something to read while I was going through something terrible. I wished I’d had some validation that what I was feeling was normal. Because, do you know what doctors also don’t inform their patients about? While it may take only a few weeks to physically recover from surgery, it can take six months to a year to emotionally recover. According to the National Institutes of Health, post-surgical depression is an actual condition that many post-surgical patients experience, but NO ONE talks about. Doctors tell you, “You’ll be able to go back to your normal activities in such-and-such amount of time,” but then what? Sure, you might be able to physically do a lot of things, but mere physical existence isn’t quite enough when you’re a more intellectually sophisticated being than a gerbil or a tree.

I’m here to inform you, if you’ve recently “recovered” from a medical trauma or surgery, but still can’t get out of bed, cry about nothing and everything simultaneously and constantly, and/or feel like you’re dying on the inside, you’re not alone. And there is hope. Your normal self will begin to emerge slowly. Sometimes with the aid of an antidepressant, sometimes simply with time, but you’ll get there.

I know, because I’m getting there. September 22 was my due date. I was supposed to have a tiny baby in my arms right now, and I don’t. But that’s okay. I’m also supposed to have two ovaries, but that’s okay, too, because, just in case you’re wondering, women can live totally normal and fertile lives with only one ovary. It sounds annoying and cliché, but I’ve learned so much because of this frustrating, painful, traumatic, annoying year. Things I may not have learned any other way.


So, the next time you want to ask someone if they’re planning on having another baby, or just one baby, or if they even want a baby, please stop and think first. It seems like a simple question, but it never has a simple answer. Mine is one of millions of stories, many even more tragic. And, frankly, it’s not really any of your business, is it?

Tuesday, April 18, 2017

Frisch On Films

Before this year, I had never been bed-ridden for any length of time. But, I spent the majority of February and March recovering from surgery, which means that I had a A LOT of time to watch movies. The void left by a diseased ovary and fallopian tube mixed with a steady stream of hydrocodone and Zofran made it pretty impossible to do anything else. As I watched, the tiny bit of myself that remained in my brain had so much commentary that I just couldn’t keep to myself. So, if you ever find yourself similarly incapacitated, (gosh, I hope you don’t) here are some spoiler-ridden and super biased reviews:


Man Up (2015)

I love turning on a movie and having no idea what I’m about to see. Sometimes you can tell by the cast or DVD cover whether or not you’re in for comedy or drama, but I’ve been fooled before (no thank you, The Beaver). I’d listened to a podcast interview with Lake Bell and found her intriguing, so I thought I’d give this one a try and it may now be in my arbitrary top 20.

Reasons to watch it:
- Wonderfully unpredictable dialogue.

Reasons not to watch it:
- Not particularly appropriate for children or people that don’t like swear words. I differentiate because my child really likes swear words.


Nearly every 90s-early 2000s rom-com I found on my streaming websites:

Don’t judge me, but I just love a good, cheesy 90s/early 2000s rom-com. I blame my dad. We watched one just about every weekend from birth until I moved away from home. The clothes, even on the wealthy, look so poorly made, and the music is so non-descript until it swells during that final kiss while the camera slowly pans away. Also, they require literally no brainpower whatsoever - perfect for when you’re medicated.


Kate & Leopold (2001)

Reasons to watch it:
- Liev Shreiber’s voice.
- Nostalgia, man. This was kind of our last chance to watch Meg Ryan be tiny and adorable. And less plastic-surgeried.

Reasons not to watch it:
- No man from the 1800s would ever have sex with a woman after a first date. Especially not when that man, only a few scenes before, felt that woman needed a chaperone on her dinner with her boss because he had “intentions.” Holy plot hole.


The Wedding Planner (2001)

Reasons to watch it:
- The wedding jitters scenes in this one are pleasantly non-mellow-dramatic. So rare and refreshing.
- I totally agree with Matthew McConaghey’s character’s opinion of brown M&Ms and I’m super bummed that they discontinued that color. Remember when there was a dark brown and a light brown?

Reasons not to watch it:
- Since when does Jennifer Lopez pass for an Italian?
- J. Lo’s “My Love Don’t Cost a Thing” plays during the closing credits. I would have been less annoyed if they had chosen literally any other song.



America’s Sweethearts (2001) 

Reasons to watch it:
- Another chance to watch a completely neurotic Jon Cusack.
- To know what Julia Roberts would look like 20 pounds heavier.

Reasons not to watch it:
- If you’re not crazy about being able to predict every moment in a movie.




Footloose (1984)

This movie is so iconic, I can’t believe I’d never seen it before. It was even filmed in Lehi, UT, a city I drive through every time I go to the airport. I was so excited to see it available on Hulu and now I know the origin of every single comedic dance montage I’ve ever seen. While I recognize why this movie might be considered a cult classic – I mean, a super young Kevin Bacon dancing? How can you go wrong? – I don’t understand how the storyline is interpreted as a group of kids who “triumph” over their community’s oppressive rules. A no-dancing rule is oppressive, yes, but those teenagers totally perpetuated the association between dancing and rebellion. They all smoked, drank, had sex with each other, and were super reckless. Maybe I’m just a prude, but seriously, make better choices kids.

Reasons to watch it:
- Dianne Wiest is a treasure.
- Hot Rod will make so much more sense.

Reasons not to watch it:
- If you suspect your teenager is a hellion, this might hit a little too close to home.


Melancholia (2011)

After two years of deliberation, I finally decided it was time to attempt this movie. I knew it would be heavy, but I was alone in the house and felt it was time to turn my brain on for a bit. Without giving away the entire plot or my entire mental health history, I’ll just say this: daily life can be truly unbearable, happy events can be masked by cloudiness and sadness, so much that impending doom can feel like a splendid relief.

Reasons to watch it:
- It’s a work of art.
- You kind of get two movies in one? Anyone agree with me on this?

Reasons not to watch it:
- If you’re going through a debilitating depressive episode, wait.
- If you’re a super happy person who’s happy all the time and you don’t understand why other people aren’t as happy, you should stay unaware that this movie exists.
- Non-sexual nudity, but still, I know that offends people.


The Cobbler (2014)

I didn’t love all the movies I watched during this time, but felt this was the one that necessitated a review. Adam Sandler, Steve Buscemi, Dustin Hoffman, and a magical shoe repair shop? Sounds awesome, doesn’t it? It’s not. This movie was not funny and you will be disappointed.

Reasons to watch it:
- Don’t.

Reasons not to watch it:
- A few too many.


Trolls (2016)

It’s not Pixar, which is apparent, but the story is really sweet and I don’t mind when Coltrane asks to watch it.

Reasons to watch it:
- Zooey Deschanel singing Lionel Ritchie’s “Hello” is a treat.

Reasons not to watch it:
-So much color, it’s kind of a trip I’m not always interested in taking.



Masterminds (2016)

This movie comes from creative genius Jared Hess (Napoleon Dynamite and Nacho Libre) and combines the awkward comedy of Zach Galifianakis and Kristen Wiig, the douche-baggery of Owen Wilson and Jason Sudeikis, and the crazy true story of the 1997 Loomis Fargo Heist. And holy smokes it is SO GOOD.

Reasons to watch it:
- Zach Galifianakis’ hair.
- This quote: “I think you mean Stromboli.”
- Kate McKinnon. If you watch this movie for no other reason, watch it for Kate McKinnon.

Reasons not to watch it:
- N/A


Before We Go (2014)

Captain America’s directorial debut where nothing happens. It’s truly lovely.

Reasons to watch it:
- If you love movies where nothing happens.

Reasons not to watch it:
- If you don’t love movies where nothing happens.



Gad Gone Wild (2017?)

I love stand up comedy. Not all of it, but I’ll give any stand up special a 10-minute chance to woo me. I turned this one on knowing that Gad Elmaleh is French, but figuring that if his special was on American Netflix, certainly it would be in English, right? Nope. It was about 98% in French. And then I thought that there was no way I would get the joke by reading the joke, but it totally worked! His inflections and nuances and commentary on America were not lost one bit in translation.

Reasons to watch it:
- If you’re American and can’t figure out why foreigners love America so much.
- If you’re a foreigner who really loves America but thinks Americans have some serious problems.

Reasons not to watch it:
- If you can’t read.


The Parent Trap (1961)

I watched this twice while I was recovering. I only audibly quoted the entire script once, though. This movie was a Sunday afternoon staple as a child and I love it just as much today as I did when I was seven.

Reasons to watch it:
- All the scenes with Reverend Mosby. Hands down my favorite character.

Reasons not to watch it:
-If you don’t like old movies, I guess?


Moana (2016)

With a toddler, I get the lovely pleasure of watching all things animated, which is mostly agonizing. One Sunday after church, all three of us gathered on the couch to watch Disney’s newest. It began pleasantly enough and the first song sung by the main character followed that perfect Disney recipe: it starts somewhat small, then swells, then changes key, then hits the apex and comes back to the beginning. It’s a recipe that has been extremely successful, and by golly if you don’t feel something. I, however, don’t like to be duped into feeling something just because of a key change, so I stayed pretty stoic. But then… I heard the sultry Maori voice of the one and only Jemaine Clement (one half of Flight of the Conchords). I immediately began to smile (possibly for the first time in weeks), and continued smiling involuntarily through the ENTIRE SONG. If David Bowie and Sebastian from The Little Mermaid had a baby, it would be this song. (I want to send Lin-Manuel Miranda a thank you note for bringing light into my life during a very somber time.) For the rest of the movie I was completely hooked (no pun intended – you’ll get that if you’ve seen it) and Tyler, Coltrane, and I finally have a movie we can all be happy watching together every single day.

Reasons to watch it:
- No dead parents! This 90s tradition is finally over!
- Female hero that doesn't need romantic love to be fulfilled.

Reasons not to watch it:
- No reasons available at this time. Or any other time. Go watch it right now.


If you don't understand the title of this post, you may not have known me when I was Frisch. I used to be a Frisch and I really like this podcast called "Maltin on Movies" where film critic Leonard Maltin and his friends discuss movies. It's really snooty and pretentious, but that's probably why I like it.

Also, P.S., you may have questions about my surgery and how I'm doing, but I'm not real big on talking about it yet. A blog post is definitely brewing, though.

P.P.S. Formatting for phones through Blogspot is impossible for this technology-Grandma. Anyone want to fix this issue for me?

Monday, January 9, 2017

I Am Neurotic (And So Can You)





There are a lot of things that bother me. Sometimes I think that there are more things that bother me than don’t bother me. But, it’s something about myself I’m learning to accept. Not change. Change requires so much effort and I’m already really tired.


1.     Books. I don’t understand when I go into someone’s house and they don’t have any books. They’ll have bookshelves, maybe, but they’re covered in picture frames. Ten pictures of themselves at their wedding, maybe a few DVDs, but no books. What do these people buy when they go thrifting? What’s on their Amazon wish list? What do they alphabetize, categorize, rearrange, and periodically dust? And, goodness, what do they say they wish they did while spending too much time on their phones???

2.     Chocolate. What is the point of dessert without chocolate? The only exception to this rule is homemade apple pie with vanilla ice cream. In November. Every other month, every other holiday, every other moment of life requires chocolate. This is a fact.

3.     Country music. Country music is a bonafide Abbie-deterrent. Don’t want me around? Play [insert country artist here, I don’t know any], and I will promptly leave. My excuse might be, “Sorry, I have to pee/pay bills/shop somewhere else because you don’t have the thing I want even though I’m carrying it my hands right now,” but what I’m really saying is, “Aaaaaaaahhhhhh!!! Why is this sound even a thing?!?!?!” It’s easily the worst genre of music ever. Okay, maybe Christian rock is the worst. I really have no use for the word “Jesus” being sung in front of painfully slow drumming.

4.     Photos taken by strangers. I’ve stopped asking people to take photos of me when I travel. Why? Because people are TERRIBLE at cropping a photo. I have feet, you know. They exist below my ankles, but, of course, you wouldn’t know that because EVERY PICTURE I HAVE OF MYSELF IS CROPPED AT THE ANKLES. If someone asks you to take a photo for them, ask them how they want it cropped or how they want the lighting, or who they want included. Actually, just tell them you’re a terrible photographer and hand the camera to someone else who is better at taking pictures.

5.     Doors. When you’ve opened a door, CLOSE IT when you’re done. That goes for cabinet doors, bathroom doors, closet doors, any kind of door really. Except the door to the washing machine. If you leave that one closed right after a load, it can get moldy. Blech.

6.     Stickers. Those stickers on Rubbermaid containers are not a part of the container’s design. They are for purchasing purposes only. And if you take them off immediately upon returning home, they come off so smoothly. It’s exhilarating.

7.     Paper. Papers should be stacked in a neat and tidy pile. Preferably organized by subject matter, paper type, paper size (largest on bottom, of course), etc. And these piles should be sifted through on a regular basis and unimportant pages should be discarded so that these stacks do not suffocate you (or me) while sleeping.

8.     Bloody pictures. I don’t want to see your most recent injury. I don’t want to see the stitches. I don’t even want to see the Band-aid that you picked out at the doctor’s office. And if the bloody injury is on your nasty foot, I will delete you as a friend because that’s strike two. (I also don’t care about sports. Two strikes and you’re out).

9.     Thick liquids spilling over jar lids. Pinterest is full of all kinds of recipes for smoothies. People seem to really love smoothies nowadays, and they also seem to grossly overestimate the volume of their hipster Mason jars. If I wanted smoothie all over my hands and kitchen counter, I’d be a toddler.

10.  Flat-boarded Scrabble. Hasbro manufactures Scrabble Deluxe boards where each tile sits in its very own perfect little rectangular depression. Why anyone would opt for the flat version is beyond me. Every time someone sets a tile down, the rest of the tiles get jostled, and one violent sneeze can ruin the entire game. Cleaning up a game on a Scrabble Deluxe board is a B-word, but it’s a problem I’m willing to overlook.

11.  iPhone clicking. Did you know that under “Settings,” you can turn OFF that incessant clicking sound your iPhone makes every time you tap a letter on the keyboard? Now you know, so do it already or I will throw your phone into a river.

12.  People other than my child eating. Coltrane can’t help it because he’s miniature, but you – yeah you! Adult over there! Put that chip in your mouth, close your mouth, THEN begin chewing. It’s really that simple. But, chew in another room, because I can still hear every crunch as if you were sitting inside of my ear and it makes me want to punch something. Your face.

13.  TV show drinking straws. Have you ever noticed that every time a person takes a sip of something through a straw on TV it makes a sound like they’re just gulping down the last of their beverage? (I bet you will now! You’re welcome.) Even if the person has just ordered their drink, and the cup is clearly full, they’ll take a sip and THAT SOUND. Go get a straw and conduct an experiment – what sound is made when you take a sip out of a full glass through a straw? No sound. That’s what sound is made. No sound at all. Stop perpetuating lies, sound engineers. Just stop.

14.  Long Scrabble words. Every Scrabble master knows that length is not often the way to scoring a lot of points. Sometimes the greatest plays are done with one tiny letter. Play that Q on a Triple Letter beside two I’s to make “QI” twice and you’ve got yourself 62 points. (Yes, “qi” is a word. Go look it up in a Scrabble dictionary.) (Yes, that’s a thing.) (Yes, a Scrabble dictionary is different than a regular dictionary.) (Remind me to never offer to play Scrabble with you).

15.  Gender inequality. When you ask my husband what he does for a living, you should probably follow that up with, “And Abbie, what do you do?” rather than just assume that because I have a three year old that you know already what I do for a living. I have quite a conversation-worthy career and a vastly rich list of hobbies that do not just involve changing diapers and cooking. Women contribute and deserve to be heard even if all you notice is my long eye roll at your misogyny.

16.  Giving candy to children. So, it’s pretty much a well-known fact that sugar is cocaine and food coloring is poison, so please stop offering candy to my child. You don’t know if my kid will break out in hives if he eats gluten, or whether his throat will close up if he inhales peanut dust, or if he turns into the Hulk when he has FD&C Red No. 40. I don’t have one of those kids, but someone else does and it’s a pretty jerk move to flaunt your lack of allergies in some poor kids face while their mom has to say, yet again, “No thank you. He’ll die if he eats that. Get with the times, dude.” Stock your pockets with stickers. Unless the adhesive is made from wheat. Dang it. Just stop noticing children at all, I guess.

17.  Doctors. If I have one more doctor give me a look like, “What do you know? I’m the doctor and you’re the patient, come back when you have M.D. written after your name,” I’m going to effing lose it. So far I have the P of Ph.D. on my resume on top of TWELVE years of experience, so you can suck it, Dr. Arrogant, because I know things that you don’t, so give me my blood work and I’ll analyze it myself. (I’m not a fun patient. Sorry, every doctor I’ve ever been a patient under).

18.  Idiots. I’ve already shared my thoughts on President-Elect Donald Doucheface, but I must revisit this (I just threw up in my mouth after typing “President-Elect). How is it possible for a country to be full of so many idiots? I live in one of the reddest states, so I’m pretty sure I’m surrounded on all sides. And if there’s one thing that grinds my gears the most, it’s idiots.


19.  Grammar. In case you’re wondering, the only reason I can handle the poor grammar within the title of this post is because Stephen Colbert said it and he’s smarter than I am, which makes it okay.

So, what makes you seem completely unapproachable and judgmental? Share in the comments!