Whatever Floats Your Boat Sinks My Battleship

So I like being independent. As a young team mom, it was a necessity unless I wanted to be like other women in my extended family that looked for a handout from the government or from a man by opening their legs. I knew from a young age that I wanted a life where I was in control (yes, even while being in the military). I was not going to be like my mother, who for half of her 20 years of marriage to the father unit, lost the power to do for herself, and had to relearn when they separated. So I strived for independence. Accepted the joy of being able to do for myself. If I wanted a man, it was because I wanted them, and not because I couldn’t survive on my own two feet. Even with my mother and father unit’s personal issues, it was the way I was raised.

 

I know many women who weren’t raise that way. Instead, they were raised that a good women stays home and takes care of it, while the man makes the money. That their children will suffer if they work outside the home. Even those that end up single parents, some of them seem to believe that when a man DOES show up in their lives, they are supposed to hand over the reins, and let them do the manly duty of handling it. Or even worse, the women that say they are independent, but are all window dressing:

 

I had an ex, we will call the Evil Ex. I almost married this psycho sicko. For two years, I was pushed into his mindbox of an ideal woman. One who shut up and looked pretty, one who catered to his every need, cooked dinner even if she had worked longer hours, and by his taste buds, not her own. I was cleaning for him, dropping friends he felt were a bad influence, having smexy time by his libido, not my own. Made to feel bad if I was too attractive or not attractive enough to other males (depending on his mood). He chose my clothes before going out, my drinks at a bar. I was a slave. His fantasies, if I showed any hesitancy, well, I was not being the submissive woman who God intended me to be. I’m sure you’re asking if this dude looked like a model for me to sink into this mess for 2 years. Nope. He was overweight and squirrelly at work. But I had low self-esteem from a previous relationship, and thought that he was the only level I can aspire to. He almost caused my military career to end, and also my life. I will never say all the things that this horrible man made me do, because I’ve unloaded in front of a psychologist to move forward.

But that, that was the last time I ever tried to be someone I’m not. So, because I am so independent and not a submissive woman (except in the naughty time room, rawr 😉 ) it weirds me out when I hear of other women who seem to live in the stone age.

A coworkers wife doesn’t work or drive. She a housewife, and even before he put a bun in her oven recently, from what’s he’s said, that was what she did. Took care of the house. Little Suzy Homemaker. And now, with the baby on the way, he takes off from work a LOT, to take her to appointments, and attend all sorts of prepare for baby new age classes. The one today was called Baby Boot Camp.

Pause.

W.T.F. is a frackin baby boot camp?

Why the frack do you need classes to tell you what should be natural? I mean, chick sits on her arse all day already, couldn’t she have googled and YouTube that ish if she is so confused on how to change a frackin diaper? I was 16 when I had my monster teen, and was still finishing high school. My mother taught me stuff on taking care of a child when I was sometimes confused (though she wouldn’t wake up in the middle of the night to help me if he was crying) but mostly let me figure things out because I needed to learn. That’s how parents since the beginning of TIME have raised children. This new weak butt way of thinking you need books and classes and frackin boot camps to prepare you for childbirth is a load of diarrhea diaper! *breathe D, Breathe!*

Sigh.

I hate that I’m so judgmental, because hey, its your life. Whatever floats your boat right? But it does piss me off that the neediness of a spouse can screw up the whole work schedule, and leave a team hanging out to dry because you can afford cruise trips overseas but can’t buy a daggone 2nd car so poor wifey can actually do something for her daggone self.

And some will say, well dimensionthe5th, you’ve never been married, you’re being kind of harsh. Your point? I call runny bull spit. You don’t magically wake up after saying I do to become a household workhorse and bun oven. You choose that.

I’m not even trying to knock stay at home wives or mothers. Hey, it’s what you chose. Good for you. Again though, when your choice affects others it pisses me off.

While I’m on that note of stay at homes, and super submissive I’ll say this. I respect you with rules: as long as it doesn’t affect me, and as long as you don’t put yourself on a pedestal. Because I work, and enjoy my career, it doesn’t make me less of a mother. Because I don’t treat a man like a God to be waited on hand and foot 24/7 while I just smile like a Stepford Wife is not the reason I am single. I plan on saying I do only once, but I will marry someone who accepts me for who I am, and who they are. I refuse to ever lose myself again. I love being my son’s mother even though I never wanted children. But my child does not define me. So you martyr moms that want to talk like you have the hardest job in the world: rephrase. You have a hard job of raising a child. It is one hard job, that except for those that have an issue with letting their children actually grow the frack up, pretty much ends from a day-to-day job once your little monsters leave the cave around 18-21 years old. Unless you have no backbone because you raised a co dependent child that doesn’t want to leave, or you have no life so you squeeze yourself into your child’s life because you don’t know how to live your own. All animals raise their young and then let them free to be adults.

Circle of life be-witches.

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