1. TEXT/TRANSCRIPTION

“If your nose is itching, someone’s talking about you!” That’s what my grandma always used to say, usually with this knowing little smile, like she knew something I didn’t. It didn’t matter what time of day it was or what else might be causing it, dry skin, allergies, whatever, if you touched your nose or started scratching it, she’d say, “Oop, somebody’s talking about you!”

And that would immediately spark a guessing game: Who? Was it a friend? A crush? Someone gossiping? Was it good talk or bad talk? Sometimes she’d add, “It’s probably someone who likes you,” or if the itch was stronger, she’d say, “You better watch your back!” It turned a totally normal bodily reaction into something social and mysterious.

I picked up on that habit too. Even now, I catch myself saying it, if my nose itches during a conversation, I’ll say, “Someone must be talking about me,” and we’ll all try to guess who. It’s not something I take super seriously anymore, but it’s part of how I relate to people. It’s one of those sayings that turns something physical into something relational.

What’s funny is that I’ve heard people from other families and backgrounds say the exact same thing, sometimes with their own twist. One friend told me their version is “Your ears are burning if someone’s talking about you,” and another said, “If your nose itches, you’re going to kiss a fool.” So there are all these slightly different versions, but the basic idea is the same, your body knows something your mind doesn’t.

2. CONTEXT
This superstition was passed down through my family, especially through the women, my grandma, my mom, my aunt. They said it casually, but it always felt meaningful. I grew up in a household where small signs were treated as important, whether it was reading tea leaves, dreams, or body sensations. The nose itching thing was one of the lighter, more playful superstitions, but it still carried that sense that we are always connected to others, even when we’re not physically near them.

When I got older, I started noticing how people outside my family said it too. At school, if someone scratched their nose and someone else pointed it out, we’d all laugh and say, “Who’s talking about you?” It created a little moment of closeness. Everyone joined in on the guessing, and it made you feel like maybe you mattered to someone, even if you didn’t know who. It made the invisible social world feel more real.

3. INTERPRETATION
This superstition demonstrates how people use folklore to make sense of their social lives and emotional experiences. The idea that your body can “sense” when you’re being talked about reflects a desire to feel socially important, that you are on someone’s mind, even when you’re not present. It gives people a sense of invisible connection, a way of imagining themselves as part of a broader social web.

Psychologically, this belief offers comfort and validation. Instead of brushing off an itch as meaningless, it gets turned into a positive sign: someone’s noticing you, thinking of you, or even obsessed with you. That may explain why the superstition is often shared in a light, playful tone. It lets people flirt, joke, or speculate about relationships in a way that feels fun but still emotionally charged.

Culturally, this piece of folklore aligns with broader traditions of interpreting the body as a kind of social sensor, common in many cultures. From twitching eyes to burning ears, people have long tried to decode physical sensations as messages from the unseen world. The endurance of this belief, even in a scientific age, speaks to how powerful these interpretive frameworks remain. In a time when we’re overwhelmed by information, small embodied rituals like this one offer a personal, intuitive way to feel connected.

1. TEXT/TRANSCRIPTION
“If my back or my knee starts aching out of nowhere, I know it’s going to rain.” That’s what I always say, and I mean it. It’s not just a guess or a coincidence, I really feel it. The ache has a different kind of weight to it, almost like pressure building in my joints. Sometimes I’ll be sitting down or walking around and suddenly my knee starts acting up, and sure enough, within a few hours the clouds roll in, the temperature drops, or it starts drizzling.

I know it sounds kind of folksy or “old-person-ish,” and maybe it is, but I’ve been saying this since I was young. I remember hearing my grandparents say things like, “My joints are flaring up, it must be a storm coming,” and I always thought it was just something older people said to be dramatic. But as I got older, I started noticing it myself, especially after I injured my back a few years ago. The pain doesn’t always show up from strain or use. Sometimes it’s just there, sudden and unexplained, and every time, the weather ends up changing.

It’s become a running joke with people around me. They’ll ask, “How’s your knee today?” like I’m some kind of walking weather app. And I’ll say, “Uh-oh, the storm’s coming.” And then, sure enough, it does. I don’t even check the forecast anymore, I trust my body more.

2. CONTEXT 
I picked this up from my family, especially the older generation. My grandfather had arthritis and used to say things like, “Storm’s coming, I feel it in my bones,” and I remember thinking it was a funny expression. But I also remember him being right, more often than not. The same thing happened with my mom. She has knee pain and swears by it. So when I started noticing the same thing in my own body, especially after dealing with back issues, I realized this wasn’t just a saying. It was real.

At first I thought I was just imagining it, but then I kept noticing the pattern. There’s something about the barometric pressure dropping before a storm that makes certain pain flare up. I don’t think I would’ve even made the connection if it hadn’t been passed down to me as a known thing. It helped me name what was happening instead of feeling like I was losing it. And even now, it feels like a small way of staying connected to my family, like I’m carrying their wisdom in my body.

3. INTERPRETATION
This saying reflects a deeply embodied form of folk knowledge, rooted in generational experience and personal observation. While it may sound anecdotal or “unscientific” on the surface, there’s actually physiological logic behind it, barometric pressure changes before a storm can affect joint tissue and inflammation, especially in people with previous injuries or chronic pain. The body, in this case, becomes a kind of barometer, registering environmental shifts in a way that scientific instruments later confirm.

Culturally, this phrase expresses an important value in traditional and familial forms of knowledge, wisdom that comes not from books or data, but from lived, bodily experience. Saying “I feel it in my bones” is a way of asserting trust in your own senses, especially in cultures or communities that have historically relied on oral tradition and intuition in the absence of formal medical care or scientific explanations.

Historically, this also reflects a long tradition of weather-related folklore. Before modern meteorology, people paid close attention to the natural world, and their own bodies, as signs of what was to come. This belief bridges the gap between human and environment, showing how people once (and still) read their bodies as extensions of nature. It also serves as a symbol of age, wisdom, and resilience, only those who’ve lived with pain or experience are seen as having the “sensitivity” to detect such subtle shifts.

In modern life, this superstition can offer emotional and psychological comfort. It gives people a sense of control and foresight in situations that are otherwise unpredictable. And for those who live with chronic pain, it offers meaning: a way to interpret their symptoms as useful rather than arbitrary.