So, here I sit. A year after this blog began and I am five pounds heavier. I have gotten sidetracked into the promise of fad diets. Dukan Diet, Zone and Atkins. After these fiascos, I have lost muscle tone and become flabbier. Perfect. So, here I go again. This time, Clean Eating, lifting and running. NO more attempts at magic tricks.
I just finished screaming because I caught my thumb in a cupboard drawer. I let out some frustration and scared my kid.
I feel like the world's shittiest parent.
I am frustrated because hubby had the "We have to cut back" talk with me again. I have been cutting back and it has made no difference to him. It's all the same. He gets depressed and uptight and we have to cut back. We cut back and he stays depressed and uptight and I feel as though spending a ton of money and not spending a ton of money makes no difference to him.
It's pointless. It feels hopeless. We are stuck in this expensive place because of his stupid job. I feel as though we have to suffer because of his job. If it was not for his stupid job we could move somewhere cheaper. We could start over somewhere and have money for vacations, furniture and a life. I wish that he could see that being here is a sacrifice for me. I could find a job easier, childcare would be cheaper, and we could have a real life instead of this shit.
Instead it's "Don't buy magazines/gum/etc." for me.
I fucking hate him sometimes.
I fucking hate my life.