i'm on strike

yup. i'm on strike. day 10 actually, but i just decided to blog about it today. because i had been feeling really negative lately and am doing everything i can to laugh my ass about all of the stupidity of life.

i flat out refuse to be my husband's maid, servant, mother, housekeeper, girl friday, or indentured servant any more.

dishes have been in the sink since two Sundays ago. yes, TWO sundays. a dried up gross oatmeal bowl, an aluminum pan that he used to cook chicken, and a rusting cookie sheet. i'm not going to do it.

dirty socks are strewn all over my living room floor, under the sofa, down the hall, in the spare bedroom. and i'm leaving every single one.

i am cleaning up after myself and the cat. but that's all. and he's having friends over on saturday while i'm out of town. game on, buddy. GAME ON.

i feel him starting to weaken. i bring home my dinners or use paper plates. not very environmentally friendly but i'm making a statement for all woman kind here. the few plates that i use will benefit all of humanity if i can restore sanity and peace between the sexes.

Tired of not being good enough

i'm sick of it.

i'm going to whine for a minute, if that's OK.

i'm sick of being fat. i'm sick of not being able to control my binges. i'm sick of not feeling like i'm good enough to be with my friends. it's starting to really take a toll on my spirit. my body? forget that... it's already so far gone. i'm about ten pounds away from my highest weight, and my husband is trying so hard to make me feel beautiful.

i don't know what triggered this downward spiral, but it started about two years ago and i just can't recover from it. i don't think anyone cares, i don't think i'm worth it, i don't care about taking care of myself. i haven't gone to the gym in three weeks. i'm wearing black. every. single. day.

snap me the fuck out of this funk, please!