Yesterday was Sven's dad's 80th birthday party. It was an excellent bash, although the weather was entirely too hot to be anywhere in fancy clothes, and sitting inside to eat was a bit of an ordeal. The long table cloth felt like a duvet over our legs, and although windows and doors were open, there was hardly a breeze. Still, a good time was had
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What I'm pissed about is the discourse happening behind my back. The "don't tell Tink, because she has no babies of her own-"thing. Like I'm some tragic old maid who can't possibly understand anyone's situation but my own.
Sven's sister's abortion has nothing to do with me. I'm annoyed that they're inferring that it somehow does, because she's "blessed" and I'm "not."
But yes. Assumptions. Communication in the face of assumptions. Ugh. I wish people would actually listen, instead of being so busy pitying me.
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