I have Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder and was prescribed Adderall, which has some side effects, including loss of appetite. My college roommate, who is one of my best friends, has made numerous comments about how “lucky” I am to be taking it because I don’t feel hungry and eat less. I know these comments come from insecurity. They started right before spring break, when she was wishing for a better body. Still, I have had a long struggle with A.D.H.D., and these comments hurt. What should I do?

MARY

If we are really lucky, at some point during college (or thereabouts) we will say something breathtakingly ignorant because we’re trying to be funny or haven’t thought through a sensitive topic. That’s when a good friend (like you, Mary) steps forward and says, in the words of the delightful “Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt,” “Hold up, Kimstagram,” and explains our thoughtlessness to us. (We’re all fools sometimes. But good friends can help.)

Being called out can also teach us to think before we speak. (Don’t ask me why, but somehow witnessing stupidity is rarely as preventive as being the boob who actually says the stupid thing.) Do your friend a solid. Take her aside and say: “Do you know how painful it was to be called dumb in middle school, thanks to A.D.H.D.? Do you think I’d wish for that just to lose a few pounds? Please think about me before you make your next ‘lucky to be on Adderall’ crack, O.K.?”

Most people who care about you will take your point and apologize A.S.A.P. Some may need 24 hours because their pride makes them defensive. And, sadly, a few will stubbornly refuse to acknowledge your feelings. Stick with the first two crowds and run like a track star from the third.

Matchmaker, Matchmaker

I am the mother of an 8-month-old baby. Often, people say to me: “I have a nephew to set her up with” or “She and my son would make a cute couple.” They mean well, but I find their suggestions off-putting: sexualizing a baby and presuming to know her future desires. I am tempted to say something sarcastic but just nod my head. I don’t want to condone this behavior anymore. How should I respond?

HALEY, OAKLAND

I’m glad you wrote, Haley. Because, frankly, your interpretation would never have crossed my mind, or, I suspect, those of the folks suggesting dates between preverbal lumps of baby fat. (That doesn’t mean you’re wrong, and I wouldn’t want to hurt your feelings even if you were.) But it gives weight to something my savvy grandfather often said: “We take people as we find them.” We are responsible for the hurt we cause, no matter how thin-skinned we think others may be.

Say: “Why don’t you get back to us in 20 years? That way, Annie can decide for herself.” You make your point about speculating on her future romantic life and spare yourself an awkward lecture on infant sexual politics. (And on a mostly unrelated note, is everyone watching “Call the Midwife” on PBS? It’s pablum, I know, but I still love it.)

Nonstop Office Talker

I work in an office with a nice woman who talks incessantly — mostly about her personal life. She does not pick up on nonverbal cues or statements that I need to get back to work. When I walk away, she follows me and continues talking. The boss has no interest in addressing her constant chatter. I don’t want to be rude or mean. But I need help.

K.M., NEW JERSEY

This is a hard one that I suspect most of us have encountered (and tried to duck). Here’s a direct approach: Invite the nice woman for coffee one afternoon. Privately, in an office or conference room, say: “I really like working with you, Jane. But I have an issue that I want to address. When we’re chatting, you keep talking even after I tell you I have to get back to work. I don’t multitask well, so it makes me feel trapped. Can you try to listen better?” It may be (briefly) awkward for both of you. But many effective fixes are.

Voice Lessons

A close friend has developed a sensitivity to my singing voice. Although we have known each other for 15 years, during the last two, she holds her ears in pain when I sing. It has made me uncomfortable being around her and seems like a mean response to some lighthearted vocalizing. Should I voice my concern?

HAROLD, DELAWARE

I would love to sing like Stevie Wonder and slice a backhand like Roger Federer. But these are dreams, Harold, not reality. When Pharrell doesn’t hit his red button, home we must go. (There are other coaches on “The Voice,” I know, but really, it’s all about Pharrell, right?) Your friend has rendered her verdict. Why not leave her in peace and confine your performances to those who appreciate them (or your bathroom, where the acoustics are probably better)?