My Husband has put me through a lot…
Sometimes it’s easy to get bogged down in how truly awful that man has been in the past 16 and a bit years. Sometimes I walk around feeling I am too good for him after everything he’s put me through. But, the other day, I was truly reminded how not a peach I am. Here’s my shit wife moments:
I made us Lebanese Bread pizzas. I was ravenous. I forgot to turn the oven on.
I ripped open a bag of Lebanese bread with no thought of how we’d continue to store it. I don’t do things like this to be a deliberate ass. I just… I don’t care about the stupid bag and how dare it cross me.
I act like a cat (his words, not mine). When I am upset I like to flick things on the floor in retaliation to the world fucking with me.
I have discovered that, apparently, I act like an actual real life chicken in the shower. My shower thinking dance resembles a fucking chicken.
I still haven’t learned how to dress myself properly. He has to rescue me from truly insane poses with clothes above my head, arms unable to move and fabric slowly cutting off the circulation to my throat.
I have to wear a splint to bed (for grinding). When it gets cleaned he will yell out “CHARGE” to me so I remember to get it. And then I yell out “I know!’ while peeing even though talking while peeing gives me stage fright. And then I get annoyed with him because he gave me stage fright and then I get into bed and… well, my splint is still in the bathroom soaking in its filth.
I also forget words. A lot. So one night he asked where my splint was and I told him it was ”on charge” because I forgot the word for “clean” so now we refer to my splint as being on charge rather than that prehistoric word “clean”.
When he gives me a back massage I tell him to move from his current position because “that’s bone”. It’s never been bone.
I get overly excited on weekend nights to completely rearrange the entire kitchen.
I have high pitched, ear splitting, excited shrieks. New Scream trailer? Ear pain. Halloween Kills trailer? He has no ears now. Also, horror movies turn me on. Now, that can’t be fun to live with.
I never do any of these things maliciously. It’s just… me. And that’s how I always get through the hard times. I remember that he has to deal with my things just as much as I deal with his. He also has to combat the fact that I like to substitute my own reality so he may tell me what an actual truth is and then I’ll pester him to pretend the opposite is true just so I can sleep at night. Can you imagine living with that and me not accessorising another stupid outfit with a chainsaw through my head? Like, I would totally chainsaw myself in the head while I was sleeping. Wouldn’t you?