|No no, this site is not a joke site!|
And they do not welcome
transgender women -
you have been warned!
|From The Original Web-Wise-Wizard|
Someone said to me recently: Stepford clearly makes you unhappy. Mmmm, well ... I should say not so much unhappy and more EXTREMELY FUCKING FURIOUSLY ANGRY!
OK yah? (wink).
"Being a girl in satin and
heels is easy, being a girl
in oily overalls is hardcore."
Jenny's blog about being
a transgender woman,
This blog was also somewhere I could vent and be more honest about the Baron. However ... in the process of being honest about the Baron I came to realise that I am not the only woman overqualified for her current role as ditzy MILF.
I decided to post with even more brutal honesty about the journey into Stepford and what it is that keeps me chained to a washing-machine.
For a long time I kept quiet about my difficulties with the Baron. I didn't want to embarrass him. I thought perhaps it was my fault. I wondered if I was too soft on him. But I think there are a lot of us, and that we all keep quiet about problems we have with Baronial behaviours so I decided to open my big mouth.
|From Online Shoes.|
The Baron works long hard hours.
Unfortunately the Baron has the kind of self-centred egotistic approach to life which comes from being long term depressed. Once recently I said: "Things are difficult in my life yet I feel happy in myself." The Baron said: "I don't think I have ever felt happy." I suggested he seek some counselling support to help him figure out why; he was not interested at the time.
The long hard hours the Baron works do not help with his depression, existential angst and failure to engage in family life.
The Baron does not like to pitch in around the house and help me out on the kind of regular basis which would give me modest support in getting on with my career. What he likes is to occasionally do some BIG major task in a very obvious way. He likes to take a HUGE mountain of ironing which has built up over two weeks and do it all then ostentatiously carry it upstairs and leave it in a HUGE pile for me to put away. When he does this he expects to be praised and thanked but for a while now I have not bothered. The ironing was always supposed to be the Baron's responsibility while I got cleaning the toilets - yah, that was a fair exchange, huh? I was kinda hoping if he had a nice domestic task and I took all the narsty ones, he would acksherly do what he promised. Clearing a mountain of ironing while posing about like: "Look at me, here with an ironing board," is not about doing something to help keep things trundling along, singing a song. It is about saying: "Look. At. ME!"
One difficulty which is more understandable is that the Baron likes the house to be tidy, while I like it to be clean. When you have a piglet running around, my dear, it is more important that the floor can have a chicken nugget dropped on it then picked up and put in a mouth than that the magazines are all neatly piled into the magazine rack in the lounge. You would think we could split the domestic labour: I will do cleaning, you do tidying. Unfortunately in the process of tidying, there is no consultation. Things get thrown away which piglets and MILFs did not wish to be thrown away and so afterwards there is trouble and the MILF gets so she prefers to do the bloody tidying up herself as well as the cleaning. And perhaps you say, she brings it on herself that she is ending up with all of the domestic labour. Well, perhaps so. I still feel miserable watching a whole shed full of things I wanted to give to friends with smaller piglets go down to the tip. Can the Baron not drive them round to our friends instead? No. Barons are not socially minded like that. They just want the job of tidying round done and to put their feet up in front of the tv on a Sunday.
|From Slow Paced Living blog.|
It is true that although the Baron is fuck useless at the domestic family cuddly wuddly stuff, he is good at getting paid work. I am fabulous at the cuddly wuddly (I have got good bosom for cuddles ). I really struggle to get jobs and this is another thing I am trying to figure out - cuz a job is my ticket out of here. Are the two related? Do I not look like a job-y person? Do I look like I had to cook breakfast for everyone before I came along to answer questions about equal opportunities and how good I am at interdisciplinarity? (Don't get excited, LOL, that does not mean I use a pink fluffy flogger and manacles.)
A Baron can be a nice person. But if he is depressed and incompetent at the kind of sociability which builds up family and friendship, it leads to trouble in Paradise. I will blog and blurt in here from my point of view, cuz this is my blog. You can skip these baronial blogposts and just read about kittens, or here's a good idea! Read all the posts and leave me outraged comments like those of the Anonymice on the 'Loving Wives' stories from the site I publish on. Perhaps the Baron is a poor sweet creature being put upon by a harridan-hag-whore .