Monday Dare: Harv let me out of my cage

Every week, I challenge myself to a Monday Dare. You can click on the link if you’d like to see the full list of Monday Dares or learn more about its origin.

This week: I don’t even know. 

I’m sorry. I’m so depressed today; I can’t even think straight. I’m blaming it on the cocktail of medications.  I feel like crying, laughing, and busting a cap in someone’s ass all at the same time.

HOW DO PEOPLE TAKE STEROIDS without losing their everloving mind?

At dinner last night, I cried into my spaghetti in front of Cal and Harv. Like I just…I just laid my head down on the glass table and fucking bawled like a little bitch. I didn’t even have the decency to excuse myself and do it privately. I am so ashamed and embarrassed.

I can’t pinpoint exactly what it was that set me off, but I think it has something to do with Saturday night.   My endlessly fascinating and wonderful friend, Jessica, drove in from Las Vegas to keep me company since I had been cooped up inside all week long.

She convinced me that *YES* even if I was swollen and feeling like a crack whore, we should get dressed up and go out to a Halloween party. So we did.

And guess what? I bumped into a few male friends I haven’t seen in a long, long time. Every single one of them wanted to know if Harv “let me out of the house” or was okay with me having a night out on the town or if Harv knew I was out at all.

As offended as I was, I laughed a little and made a joke about how Harv does occasionally let me out of my cage, and he really only whips me when I don’t do the floors right the first time.

I hate the double standard. When we see a married man out, do we ask these questions? I don’t. People are just people to me. Sure, some of them are married or single or boring or awesome or mothers or fathers or bastards, but I don’t assume someone gets to be somewhere or is allowed to do something because of a title or label. Are mothers and wives not supposed to go out? Is that inappropriate? I hate that I care, but my fear is that no matter what I do or how much I accomplish, I’ll only be seen as Harv’s wife or Cal’s mother because there isn’t any room to be viewed as anything else.

Anyway, no funnies here today. I have to go cry now.

P.S. I’m posting a picture from Saturday evening later today on the Flourish in Progress Facebook page. I’m supposed to be a maid in case you can’t tell. I tried.
image via Beth Dobbs of Wildemoon Art 


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