On more occasions than I care to count, I’ve been informed of several obvious shortcomings with regards to my personality: I’m too serious, too impatient, I worry too much and I overanalyze everything.
For many years, I’ve fought against these traits, sure that there was something wrong with me and that I was screwing up my marriage, my children and myself. I stuffed my feelings the way you stuff down the trash when it’s overflowing and you’re too lazy to change the bag, which everyone knows only makes your kitchen stinky.
If we’re talking about feelings and not a poorly-managed kitchen, stuffing “trash” down might cause a person to develop what I call “cut a bitch” feelings. At least, that’s my totally non-expert blogger-who-just-wants-to-write-a-quasi-humorous-post-about-shit-that-pisses-me-off analysis of the situation. Last time I wrote about this, I discussed people hurting my children (even by accident oh my god I will cut you), thinking of my husband boinking another woman (MINE) and getting a hair stuck to the back of my arm (I will flip a muhfucking couch).
Since that post, I’ve been keeping notes on other things that make me feel stabby. It would appear that this post is going to be a series that will last for approximately infinity years, so hopefully you will enjoy coming along with me on my rage ride wherein I purge feelings arisen from stuffing innate personality traits, an endeavor which is very healthy and normal and not insane at all.
So here they are, a few More Things That Make Me Want to Cut a Bitch:
When my husband pressures me to have another baby. Well then, YOU get pregnant, husband. And YOU get fat. And YOU breastfeed until your nipples bleed. And YOU stay up all freakin’ night every night for six months. Oh. No? That doesn’t sound fun? Then shut up. Before I cut you.
When my shoes are not tied the same tightness. I only wear lace-up shoes when I run, but I absolutely cannot function if my shoes are not the same level of snug on each foot. Sometimes I think I’ve got it right but then I have to stop a mile into my run and re-tie a shoe because if I don’t get them exactly the same I might just cut a bitch. (Also, this tendency of mine might explain some of the more stressed mornings in my household when it comes to children and things that “feel weird.”)
When a tiny bubble blocks my coffee from coming out of my travel mug. I call it the coff-blocker. I swish, swirl and blow (that’s what she said) and still the bubble keeps coming back, blocking the narrow opening from which the delicious nectar of alertness is meant to flow. But the tiny coffee bubble, though miniscule, is powerful. No coffee shall pass its border. Usually when the coff-blocker is having one of its more onerous mornings, I am forced to remove the lid to my travel mug and angrily guzzle my coffee while stopped at a traffic light. But that’s better than slamming a full mug of hot coffee into the dashboard of my car and spilling it all over the air vents and GPS system, right? Right.
Ahhh, now that feels better. It really is good to talk about these things, you guys. So tell me, what things make you want to cut a bitch? Comments are for venting. 😉
If this post made you giggle (and thereby prevented you from acting out with rage about something stupid that pissed you off this morning), please be sure to share it and follow my Facebook page!