So I thought I'd try this blogging business since I have a lot of thoughts and, let's face it, a lot of time. Going through a rather harrowing (for me) year though I know I have a lot to be grateful for. I don't live in Africa or Iraq or even Washington, D.C. I have two wonderful children who don't always think I'm so wonderful. The question is, how did I end up living my mother's life? That was NOT supposed to happen. I was supposed to have a career, hubby, two kiddies, perfect life, maybe a SUV or two.
I chucked the career when I met hubby number 2 because I wanted to concentrate on having the perfect marriage and children. Hubby now works in London during the week, wants me to move down there so I can share in the inner circle of hell life and uproot my children from their perfect life. And I don't even have a SUV. Of course they're politically incorrect these days.
So I'm in the latter stages of my 40s, haven't worked as such in 15 years, have a severe case of cellulite, and everything's going south. Oh Boo Hoo Hoo.
Where is Dear Abby (legendary agony aunt in America) when you need her? Dead in the ground. Or somewhere. And replaced by some niece or daughter or something. What would Dear Abby say to me when I contemplate cutting myself because I now understand why all those people do it? Probably "Wake up and smell the coffee." You gotta love Dear Abby.