Filed under: Relationships
[image: Post Secret 4/4/2010]
My Ex constantly told me that I was fat, chubby, and/or disgusting. I am 5’7″ and when we were together weighed somewhere between 125 and 135 pounds. I was a size 2 most of the time. He, on the other hand, was close to 250 when we met and closer to 300 when we broke up. Yet he still always questioned my decision to order dessert or skip a workout.
This secret hit me so hard today, right in that Reeses-peanut-butter-cup-loving place in my gut. Several years later I have gained twenty pounds, am currently polishing off a bowl of mini Cadbury eggs, and absolutely will not tolerate anyone criticizing my curvy size 8. I’m beautiful and I’m happy.
Mom, I want to be a doctor when I grow up.
It’s very hard to become a doctor, My Sweet.
Mom, I want to be a scientist when I grow up.
Not many girls are scientists, Precious.
Mom, I want to be a lawyer when I grow up.
All lawyers cheat people out of their money, Angel.
Mom, I want to be an architect.
Architects never have any free time, Honey.
Mom, I want to be an actress.
Only girls without morals become actresses, Darling.
Mom, I want to be a writer.
Writers tend to be eccentric and lonely, Love.
Fine! I don’t want to be anything!
These days every girl should have a profession, Pumpkin.
What do you want me to be Mom?!?
Why, anything you want, Dear…
Filed under: Workin' 9 to 5
I am trying so hard to be grateful that I have a job. I know so many people who are facing unemployment, and I feel like I’m rubbing my own employment in their faces as I hate my job. But there are certain things about my job that are simply… unbelievable. To wit:
– A board member wanted to meet me, saying that he had admired my work. My boss interrupted him, saying, “Well, she’s really the office whipping-bitch. Ha! Ha!!”
– For the past 18 months, I have been doing my job AND the job of another employee. She was out of the office on three different kinds of leave for a YEAR, and then she resigned. I have received no increase in pay, and my boss flat-out denies that this situation has left me with additional work.
– I am the most highly-educated person in my office. Every single person on staff makes a minimum of 50% more money than I do. And I’m still doing TWO jobs.
– In October, my boss asked me if I would go to coffee with him. We went, sat down, and he whipped out a binder, saying “I thought we could have your annual review here!”
– While I was talking about my situation during my annual review, he held up a hand and said, “Stop talking!” He then stared as a hot guy walked into the coffee shop, got his coffee, and sat down. In a stage whisper, he proclaimed, “Oh, HELLO. You can come sit by us, if you’re lonely.” He then looked back at me and said, “I’m sorry, what were we talking about?”
– This happened three more times. My annual review ended when the hot guy left the coffee shop. My boss packed up faster than any human being in the history of the world, and then we followed the hot guy six blocks down the street.
– My boss has decided to hire someone FINALLY to fill the vacant position. The person he’s hiring is his new boyfriend’s cousin.
– He is paying the cousin SIGNIFICANTLY more money than I am being paid.
– He will walk around to everyone’s office (we are a VERY small staff) to tell them something, but he will exclude me. For instance, he hasn’t yet told me that he is hiring the cousin. But he has told everyone else.
– He told one of my coworkers that he just doesn’t like me, and he doesn’t know why, but he doesn’t feel compelled to try.
– He told another one of my coworkers that he doesn’t care if I’m unhappy here.
I’m not sure how to be “grateful” about this. Simply put, I feel stuck in this shitty job, because the economy is so terrible. Despite being an intelligent, nice, accommodating, sincere person (and a darn hard worker), I am stuck in a situation where someone treats me badly for personal reasons. There is no HR person on staff, and the board is very uninvolved. I feel like I have no recourse. I’m just sitting here, waiting for the economy to improve, and hating my job.
Filed under: Housemates
Note from Admin: The following post was written by one of you. EveryWoman who just needed to vent!
I have this house-mate, see? She is a lovely person, caring, loyal, generous. But there are times when I seriously believe her testosterone levels rival that of steroid-injected athletes, or drunken sailors, or something. I have lived with men before (a mistake in all cases, stupid men), and to be honest this situation is not much different with the exception of the piles of scrapbooking stuff that has infiltrated every possible horizontal surface of our apartment.
She cooks, but she has no concept of doing dishes. We don’t have a dishwasher, so things just pile up until we run out of clean dishes completely. And then she’ll go to the store and buy paper plates/cups instead of washing what we already have. This is particularly bad when I go out of town–which I do quite regularly for work and what-have-you. I will come back to a kitchen full of dirty dishes and rotting food. [Insert Dry Heave here.]
She sometimes we get the urge to pick-up her stuff, but I doubt she has ever touched a broom/mop/cleaning rag in her life. Her vacuum was broken for 2 years and she told me “my carpet just didn’t get dirty.” [Insert Dry Heave here.]
Football, the bane of my adult existance (see “stupid men” above), is on a constant loop at our house. ESPN, ESPN2, ESPN Classic, the football package for NFL and college…it’s insane. The DVR is a constant revolving list of “good games” and the entire football season my house-mate can be found screaming her opinions at the television. [Insert Dry Heave here.]
I like to think I am a fairly stylish person when it comes to making a cold, sterile apartment feel more like home. I am constantly rearranging the chairs and plants and throw pillows and picking up things here and there from thrift stores to finish off a room. My house-mates idea of “style” is an overstuffed, powder blue LaZyBoy next to a mini-fridge of Mt. Dew. I wish I was kidding. [Insert Dry Heave here.]
You may be wondering why on earth we continue to live together. I assure you, I wonder the same thing all the time. But, gorgeous hardwood floors, an enormous loft with skylights that overlook the city skyline, fireplaces, bay windows, crown molding, marble tile and granite counter-tops in a secure building with covered parking will always win out over a dirrty roomie and the football soundtrack. Always.
Thanks for letting me vent! I love this anonymous-blog idea!
Filed under: Housekeeping
Every Woman. She’s you. She’s me. She needs to vent.
If you are anything like me you have dozens of posts written in your head or saved as a draft that you are well aware will never see the light of day. Well, here’s your big chance. Every Woman is for you to vent about your room mate, your boyfriend/girlfriend, your spouse, your mother, your boss, your in-laws, yourself with complete anonymity. Simply email me your post to alwayseverywoman[at]gmail[dot]com. No real names, no real places, no real anything. Just venting.
To launch things off, please check these blogs for anonymous posts as part of -R-‘s Blog Share. And then email me your rants.
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The North Is My Snowcone
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Operation Pink Herring
Pants, Pants, Pants
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Swimming With Sharks
Thinking Some More
Way Way Up