What is up with people being so fragile nowadays?? Bunch of whiners. People can’t deal with the real world.

“I have anxiety. I need to be on disability.”

Fuck your anxiety! I have horrible anxiety and I am still perfectly capable of dealing with work, kids, my relationship, family, friends, etc. Sure, I think of different ways to kill people while I’m talking to them. Sure, I burn and throw things when I’m angry. Sure, I scream at people who brush up against me at Wal-Mart. I don’t go begging the government for money just because life is tough.

Come to my house for about an hour and see how easy your life is. My kids will run you into the ground, stomp on you, then spit on your bloody carcass. Work where I do for the pay I make. Deal with the crap I do on a daily basis. Wanna borrow this birth control I’m using? When you don’t eat at a certain time, you’ll go into a fit of hormonal rage against anything in your path. I would build a shrine to the first person to walk in my door with a Zoloft sandwich and a bottle of Jack. Does that mean I need to be on disability? NO. It means my life is shitty and I’ll deal with it like normal people do. Quit feeling sorry for yourself and deal with your life like the rest of us. You’re not special.

Names are unimportant. When people look at you, they don’t care what name you were given at birth. One look at someone and you’ve already analyzed their weight, their clothes, the way they carry themselves. You’ve judged them by their appearance. Don’t lie. You’ve done it. We’ve all done it. Your mom does it. Looking at some large woman in a tube top, hott pants, and a pair of blue glitter pumps, you never once thought, “Hmm. I wonder what her name is..”

With that being said, allow me to describe myself as I am at this very moment. I’m about 140-150 lbs. I don’t own a scale, don’t care to, and I hardly ever weigh myself because it’s not something I want to think about. I’m fluffy, not nearly in shape. Three kids worth of baby weight, depression, unhealthy eating, and whatever else. If I were running for my life, I might make it to the mailbox before I fell to my knees and begged for a quick death. I’m currently wearing a Chuck Norris shirt and jeans. My hair looks a hott mess and I hardly bother putting on makeup these days. I’m barefoot.

Call me whatever you want.

I’m here to blog.