Sunday Confessions: 8-2-26

"This weekend, my parents told me that I’m a trust fund baby."

Welcome to Sunday Confessions. Each Sunday through Sunday Scaries Instagram stories, readers submit their totally-anonymous confessions. Because sometimes it just feels good to get off your chest.

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My screentime has consistently gone down this summer and all I can really attribute that two are these reasons:

• I started wearing a watch so I’m not picking up my phone to see what time it is, thus seeing notifications that distract me.

• I’ve been reading more than usual.

I don’t really put much stock in my Sunday screentime reminders anyway, but I never thought wearing a watch would actually yield those type of results. Huh.

Anyway, here are all of this week’s confessions.

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DoorDash’d hemorrhoid cream at 9 p.m. Saturday night.

My boss refers to me as his work daughter, and gets very defensive when people try to attack me in meetings. I secretly love it.

Claude wrote the note I put in my mother’s 75th birthday card.

I keep dipping into the wedding budget to buy more outfits for the 9-day Caribbean honeymoon.

My best friend excluded me on purpose for a concert we had discussed going prior and now I no longer want to be her friend.

My husband mixes his protein shake with espresso and it gives me the ick.

I’m buying my first vibrator. I’m 43.

Seeing the support in the comments about finding grey pubes has made me feel a lot better about my own.

I have a crush on my spin instructor, to the point where my anxiety manifests itself through chest pain.

In an effort to drink less alcohol, I find myself taking more edibles and smoking more cigarettes.

Strong believer that the quality of toilet paper in someone’s house or a hotel is a strong indicator.

My ex broke no contact and now we’re going to a destination wedding together.

I’ve read so many confessions about Etsy witches on here I convinced myself someone did one against me so I paid for one to protect me and break any bad curses against me… best $15 I’ve spent.

Went to the pub after work. Was drinking with my ex, who I still work with. Went back to the office and had sex on his boss’s desk. Will never be able to look at the desk again.

Seriously considering a labiaplasty.

AI has helped quiet my noisy brain so much but given how much backlash AI usage gets, I feel like I can’t admit it to anyone.

The hottest guy in the office quit without notice. I miss staff meetings when he was there.

I have not had sex since 2022 when my ex was cheating and gave me a std. I haven’t admitted this to anyone, not my therapist or two best friends who would never judge.

I’m 39 on Monday and I’m terrified that I’m letting life pass me by. Still haven’t written that book, won an Oscar, or had an interview with Stephen Colbert. And it’s a Monday.

Either gave myself food poisoning with expired buffalo chicken dip or have developed a spontaneous allergy to Lambrusco. Either way, had to swallow my vomit in the back of the Uber.

A woman I’ve been attracted to for YEARS finally started an OF. She does not look good naked.

I feel like I’m forever going to be chasing the feeling I had when I was 21 years old. I hate what my life has come to. Office job, boring boyfriend, bills, no friends. Everything was different then.

Thought I had cyclospora but it turned out to be giardia I got from being dared to kiss a dead fish.

Saw a movie with my current girlfriend and all it made me think of was my ex. The movie was Spider-Man.

Drinking less is actually the best thing ever. My Scaries are way down.

This weekend, my parents told me that I’m a trust fund baby.

Unsure if I have cyclospora or if this is just hangovers in my thirties.

I like to eat beef flavoured crisps, a bar of chocolate and drink hot chocolate because I like the funky breath taste it gives me.

This guy and I flirted for years with lots of sexual tension built up. We slept together recently. I was so disappointed but he keeps texting me to get together again.

I’m worried that my neighbor genuinely thinks I’m a witch — the spell-casting kind.

I haven’t showered since Thursday. I’m on my period.

I still own the untouched box of 50 condolence cards I panic-bought from Amazon at the start of COVID because I was convinced everyone I knew was going to die.

Had a one night stand in my childhood home and hooked up on my parents’ couch.

Hooked up with best friend’s fiancé’s friend and now we have to see each other at every event and potentially walk down the aisle at their wedding together next year.

Lost my anal virginity before my actual virginity.

Just got back from a 20-person bachelor trip in Mexico — did all the planning and execution and honestly I was lowkey miserable. But hey, at least I didn’t get stuck with the $27k USD strip club group bill.

Had a sex dream about Robert Irwin. He’s 16 years younger than me. It was hot.

Deeply attracted to gray haired men wearing leather pants. Like Sting circa 2003.

One of my friends has created five different Instagram accounts — personal, fitness, medical, foodie, and parental. She insists we all follow each. I do, but immediately mute stories and posts on all.

I vape in my office, at work, nearly all day long.

Met a guy on holiday and I know I’ll never see him again but I can’t stop thinking about him.

I’m only staying in this relationship so she can guide me around her home country on vacation in a few weeks.

My husband and I were fighting and I didn’t have the energy to reply so I used ChatGPT and he caved and said he loved me and the fight was over.

I said yes to the girls’ trip, but I didn’t mean it. I would rather spend the time and money traveling with my husband and kid.

My weird smut accidentally appeared on my Goodreads.

Every Sunday, I dread going into work on Monday. I own the company.

Nearly fainted, but TSA did not find the weed pen, thank you, Jesus.

Every time I eat a yoghurt at my desk, I throw the metal spoon (provided by work) in my bin as well because I’m too lazy to wash it up.

When my doctor asked me if I was experiencing any anxiety or depression, I answered, “Who isn’t?!” and spiraled into a rant. Anyway, I’m on meds now.

After a year of therapy, I finally feel like myself again.

I bought a family-size box of Cheez Its and ate the entire thing within 48 hours.

I think I could heal my husband’s inner child by making him watch About Time.

I’ve read so much Devil Wears Prada smutty fanfiction in the last month that I can’t orgasm with my husband without thinking of Meryl Streep and Anne Hathaway.

I think I fell in love in 3 days.

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