February 11, 2008 Throwback blog post.

The x-raying went alright.

I was in and out of the lab within ten minutes. Now I need to wait three to four days for the doctor to hem and haw before confirming that I have osteoarthritis. That’s my guess. It’s been my guess since I was in my early twenties. I’ve already had this self-diagnosis rejected by several doctors. I was too young, they said. Ideally, yes, but I’ll bet I’m an early bloomer when it comes to geriatric ailments. I mean, because of dissolving tooth enamel, 30% of my teeth have already been capped with either porcelain or gold.

The following three paragraphs were going to be whiny, but they’re gone now. My mental well-being is dependent on my level of physical activity: too much rest leaves me restless. I’m going to try not to spend my recovery time sitting around writing depressing blog posts.

Today’s throwback post is from the time a Boomer judged me for buying avocado. The incident took place in 2008, long before the avocado toast controversy. Perhaps it was me who sparked the whole debate?

Prelude: I know many people believe that I should be more patient with hearing people. They’re usually people who don’t have to put up with what I do every day. Until I hit my twenties, I’d stress over trying to make hearing people comfortable in my presence and making sure they didn’t think I was rude by ignoring them: it never did me any good. I understand that interacting with a deaf person is new to them, but interacting with hearing people isn’t new to me.

Sometimes, instead of not giving a fuck, I’ll fuck with them. Who goes up to a stranger at a grocery store and asks them what they do for work?

Ask bullshit questions, get bullshit answers.

February 11, 2008: Does this title make me look fat?

A few weeks ago, I was in the produce section of the supermarket squeezing the avocados when a middle-aged guy took note of this and made a comment. I turned around to nod and smile, hoping he’d read this reaction as me listening to him and walk away. But, no, he kept jabbering on about the fruit. So, I informed him with indifference that I was deaf, hoping he would then walk away.

Success!

BUT! He stopped, turned around and returned to where I was standing, once again interrupting my fruit examination.

“Are you a student?” He asked.

I shook my head.

“What do you do for work?” He probed further.

Although I’m not a great lipreader, I understood him perfectly, but I was so baffled as to why he would ask such a question.

“Huh?” I grimaced.

Then, he took out his wallet, opened it up and drew a $20 bill out of it. “What do you do for money?”

At this point, I resorted to digging through my backpack for a pen and paper, so that I could ask him why the hell he was asking me about my job. Without the hell part, of course.

He said something about being curious what with me being deaf and all.

“I’m a lawyer.” I wrote back.

“Really?”

I nodded and he walked away. For real this time.

I think I ended up peeling a sticker off one of the organic avocados since none of the cheaper chemical-doused stuff were ripe. I’m a lawyer on a budget, after all.