Fuck you Channing Tatum and your bullshit “perfect life” picture. That shit is not realistic and you basically made many mothers and wives feel like shit, gave husbands unreal expectations and created an unreal fantasy for future parents. You heard me. I’m hating. (suprise!) I’m sure you’ve seen this image of his hot wife napping. Well let me tell you something. If we all had nannies and maids we would all be sleeping hot and sexy like that too. In sweet marital bliss, clean sheets, soft, unblemished skin rubbed by massage therapists, with full nights sleep, and staff and family members to assist our every need. Guess what, 99% are not living that dream.
Currently wearing: owl pajama pants, a t-shirt I’ve worn since the last shower, and a hoody, WITH the hood up. It’s fucking 20 degrees out. I could blast the heat and wake up like that, but my husband wouldn’t even fucking see it because he snores so fucking loudly I have my own room now. Between the little sleep I get, I need at least a couple quality hours. LOL at this image.
This ranges up there with that idiot Kim Kardashian waving her jewelry around. She got ripped off. My mother always told me to “never let the devil see you smile”.
You know where I’d be after a night of partying, even with baby sitter, even if my husband and I managed to get in a bang? HUNGOVER, carrying my toddler, with my hair in some fucked up ponytail. Sleep? LOL Sleeping in? Fuck you for your staged photograph of #goals that are not realistic.
I refuse to relish in their happiness. I refuse to accept that I could “have this too” if I tried hard enough. It’s easy to get along when you don’t have 1000 errands on your plate. Your husband is just as exhausted as you are, and you look at each other and throw rock, paper, scissors over the next shitty diaper (literally full of poo). We go out on date nights. Both of us are pretty good looking too, but our night is literally a math equation of how many drinks can I get in and how much is this going to cost in the morning. Another issue, when the clock strikes midnight, will we turn to pumpkins and puss out? We don’t even have the fucking energy.
And you can call me out, and say I’m so hating and that I’m miserable, blah blah blah. How many of you have toddlers? I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty active in my parenting. My kid and I are in tune with each other. ALL my energy goes to making sure his life is amazing. I don’t have time to fucking hug my down comforter, let alone make sure my 1000 count Egyptian cotton sheets are pressed and give a sheen. Fucking jerks.
And my ass does not look like that and I weigh 116 lbs. Bullshit.
More bullshit. As you can tell, I don’t like Trump. But I swear to fucking God. Unless I see a video of Trump and some bitches pissing on themselves, I’m not buying it. Show me some red hair, a hand, someone making it rain, ANYTHING. This is the type of gossip that comes from yentas. It makes me wonder what serious thing is really going on that the media is diverting our attention from to the president-elect supposedly being into golden showers. I say this often, but I swear I was not dropped off on the right planet.