Dear Mrsatroxi,

Lately I’ve met some well, different folks. One lady in particular. Now, she is perfectly nice, smart and all, but she has some, um, interesting ideas about marriage and relationships. (I should quality all this by saying that she has been married much longer than I, and also has children, so you know, I may just be the surly know-it-all teenager in this, caveat to come.) Ideas that I did not believe actually ever existed at all, and certainly not in the modern world.

She thinks that a married woman must be as perfect as possible for her husband. This means dinner on the table every night with a smiling countenance to go along with it. No discussion of personal thoughts or feelings. Here’s the kicker, for me, anyway. No bodily functions. You husband should never hear you burp, pass wind, chew or snore. You should always look act and feel your best most freshest no matter what.

Yeah.

Now, I do believe the “mystery” should be kept up somewhat, I mean, my husband is my best friend and lover, not my doctor or plumber. However, I also am secure in my knowledge that I am a person, a child of God, a human animal. I am not Woman, a mystical magic creature who glides through life to the sound of fifes, smells of rosebuds and never poos. Ain’t me. Ain’t nobody, she don’t exist, folks. And trying to turn your natural mud-made body into a marble temple just seems a good way to set yourself up for lots of intestinal distress and heartache.

Now, normally I do try and just let folks be, different strokes and all, but this one irritated me a bit more that usual, mostly since she has a daughter she teaches this twaddle to.

But also because her husband just left this paragon of Woman. (I did mention a caveat, didn’t I?)

Any thoughts?

I’m most awfully proud of this photograph.

None of that newfangled Photoshop stuff going on here, no siree-bob.

Hello? Anybody still out there?

I’ve been almost silent as the grave here lately, and I don’t like it. I actually have a few things I’d like to prattle on about, but I…haven’t! (Deep, that.) You see, I’ve been blaming my sadness and lack of energy on the job and on medication respectively, but, after doing some reading, I think I might actually be ill. Like, with something physical instead of mental. I know! Amazing. I think I might have hypothyroidism. A lot of my issues seem to match up with that, and it does run in my family. So, I’ll be off to the doctor soon to get that checked out, which is my most favorite place in the world to go, as those of you who are my regular readers know all about. It’s funny, if you call up your doctor and say, “Hmm, I have a bit of a sore throat and a sneeze,” they will pop you in the schedule the same day. If you call and say, “Hmm, I think I might have an issue with my thyroid,” they can’t see you for a few months. Yeah. Lovely things, doctors.

Perhaps I’ll have the equivalent of the American Dream disease, and will be able to simply swallow a pill that will fix everything.

Otherwise, prepare yourself for lots more whining about life in general.