Today needs to DIE
For over a year I have made Tuesday night dinner for the family. It's had very few rain checks and most often it's a new recipe I'm trying. Every Tuesday for a YEAR. The last three weeks I've come home to my father either already eating or just about to. After a fucking YEAR of me cooking every Tuesday.
Tonight I come home from the grocery store with a fancy meal planned for us all. I walk in the door, set the grocery bags down in the middle of the kitchen and go back to my room to change out of my work clothes. While I'm out of the room for TWO WHOLE MINUTES, my father walks into the kitchen and makes himself a can of chili. A fucking shit chili from a shit can while I have bags of REAL food - gourmet food which would have been ready in less than an hour.
"What the hell are you doing?!"
"What do you mean?"
"In the kitchen - what are you doing?! It's Tuesday!"
"I was hungry. I'm making some food."
"But it's Tuesday!"
"I thought it was Wednesday."
"IT'S TUESDAY!!"
Every week I put effort into something new and delicious and there he is making fucking gross chili from a can like he's camping. I hate chili. I have never liked chili.
And earlier today at work this loud woman accused me of being pregnant. Pregnant. She goes to hand me her credit card to pay for the massage, zeros in a stare at my three layer deep stomach, and oh so loudly and in front of the entire office,
"Heather! Are you pregnant?!"
What?! No! Of course not.
"Are you sure? What's going on down there? Cause if you were - I'd have some questions for you."
I guess I just wasn't sucking it it.
"Oh... well have you gained weight?"
No, actually I've lost a little.
"Well you know when you started this job you were tiny. I always thought you were too thin, but I think you look perfect now."
Thanks.
Okay. So when I started this job I was a size 0 or 2 depending on the store. I thought I was a little too thin also, but I'm only a size 6 now. That's hardly pregnancy scare worthy belly we're talking about. To go from "you look like you are growing a gut and it must be a person growing inside of you I just can't keep from commenting" to "you look perfect"?! I'm never wearing this sweater with layers under it ever again. I look fine. You're crazy and very rude. Even if I were pregnant - it wouldn't be any of her damn business.
Tonight I come home from the grocery store with a fancy meal planned for us all. I walk in the door, set the grocery bags down in the middle of the kitchen and go back to my room to change out of my work clothes. While I'm out of the room for TWO WHOLE MINUTES, my father walks into the kitchen and makes himself a can of chili. A fucking shit chili from a shit can while I have bags of REAL food - gourmet food which would have been ready in less than an hour.
"What the hell are you doing?!"
"What do you mean?"
"In the kitchen - what are you doing?! It's Tuesday!"
"I was hungry. I'm making some food."
"But it's Tuesday!"
"I thought it was Wednesday."
"IT'S TUESDAY!!"
Every week I put effort into something new and delicious and there he is making fucking gross chili from a can like he's camping. I hate chili. I have never liked chili.
And earlier today at work this loud woman accused me of being pregnant. Pregnant. She goes to hand me her credit card to pay for the massage, zeros in a stare at my three layer deep stomach, and oh so loudly and in front of the entire office,
"Heather! Are you pregnant?!"
What?! No! Of course not.
"Are you sure? What's going on down there? Cause if you were - I'd have some questions for you."
I guess I just wasn't sucking it it.
"Oh... well have you gained weight?"
No, actually I've lost a little.
"Well you know when you started this job you were tiny. I always thought you were too thin, but I think you look perfect now."
Thanks.
Okay. So when I started this job I was a size 0 or 2 depending on the store. I thought I was a little too thin also, but I'm only a size 6 now. That's hardly pregnancy scare worthy belly we're talking about. To go from "you look like you are growing a gut and it must be a person growing inside of you I just can't keep from commenting" to "you look perfect"?! I'm never wearing this sweater with layers under it ever again. I look fine. You're crazy and very rude. Even if I were pregnant - it wouldn't be any of her damn business.