Confession of a She-Male

Ever had one of those days where you wake up in the morning and the first thing that came out of your mouth is, “I HATE MYSELF”? 

I hate the fact that I’m not like any other normal female who knows how to cook nice delicious food for their spouse, decorate their house with an ease of an expert interior designer despite not having any experience and yet manage to make their house looks like a goddamn Trump’s hotel lobby. 

I hate that I HATE doing housework and that whenever I see a pile of laundry I need to do, I feel like throwing it in a fire and buy myself a new set of clothes but I hate shopping as much as I hate laundry and all those hatred confuses me until it become a dilemma that sucks monkey balls to the max. I think I am a man trap in a woman’s body. I want to go hiking instead of cooking. I want to travel and explore places I’ve never been to instead of scrubbing toilets. I want to drive a sport car so fast till my soul cry for mercy instead of vacuuming carpets. I want to experiment with photography and learn where I can improve myself instead of thinking how to decorate my house so it’ll look like Queen Sheba’s castle. 

I admit I envy those women who cook super delicious food till their husband crows in delight. I want that too but I’m damn clueless in the kitchen. Even my simple fried rice taste like molten lava. I’ve a friend who can make a boring looking living room into something so fantastic, I had to hold myself from clapping my hands in delight seeing her work her magic. 

Aside from that, I too seem to NOT have any female instinct/sense/ initiative to know how to make my husband happy. I say/do things that distressed and sometimes anger him. And what’s worst, I would NOT know WHAT I said/did that made him so tense. Because of my ADD, the matter will slip off my mind in a second and next thing you know; I’ll do/say the same thing again the next day. EPIC. FUCK. MY. LIFE. 

When I confided this problem with my friend, she said I used to cook nice food. 

What happen? 

Bad memories happened. Whenever I cook, fucking déjà vu of my past plagued me to death. So instead of cooking with love, bitter feelings of anguish, sadness etc seeps in instead. So now instead of cooking, I try to bake instead (I NEVER BAKE BEFORE). It works for a while until my ADD kicks in and my interest wanders away and I’m starting to look for new things to dabble my skills in. Sucks max. 

Today is I HATE MYSELF IMMENSELY DAY. You’re welcome to join me to celebrate this epic failure day. I might extend the celebration until tomorrow or eternity, whichever comes first. 

There. I think I rant enough. 

Enough to make those tongues wagging. I’m talking about those people who dislike me but still read my blog, monitoring me in case I’ll write bitchy stuff about them. Even if I don’t bitch about them, they WILL STILL BITCH ABOUT ME JUST CUZ! I don’t understand these people’s mind. They are those who are very religious, super ‘alim’ wearing their hijabs and such BUT bitch about other people, like WOW HYPOCRITE MUCH. They want people to respect them because they THINK they are better than the rest especially people like me but THEY ARE NO BETTER than my toilet seat. YOU PEOPLE ARE nasty, jealous, bitchy, FAT (yes, I'm talking to you too you FAT REPULSIVE BITCH), ugly and with common sense of a DUNG BEETLE. One word for these people: SUCKFEST. 

Don’t think I don’t know who you are. I heard you put my blog as your home page. How utterly pathetic and moronic. Suck monkey balls fuckers. Coz I'm better than you, I'm keep on blogging and Imma keep on taunting you here AND ALSO RIGHT AT YOUR FACE. So watch out, the next time I see you, I'll POINT BLANK AND ASK YOU TO SHUT THAT FUCKUP FACE OF YOURS. Count your lucky stars we see each other ONCE A YEAR. 

Toodles!