The sweet one.
You know who I mean, the girl in high school who was nice to everybody. Never smoked pot. Helped the old lady up the road re-plant her gladiolas.
And never knew how good she looked in spandex bike shorts and a tank top.
I was the girl next door.
Till' I got caught up with a boy who drove, a black Firebird. The exact same model as the original KITT. Call it what you will, but we were bad in our day.
Isn't life funny.
Sooooo, I in 1994 graduated high school 2 months pregnant. My daughter is 14 now and I'm 33. My husband (her step-father) is just getting over a mid-life crisis, I'm raising 10, 12, & 14 year old kids, and a new Shiba Inu puppy who is tearing up roll after roll of good brand TP, I'm on unemployment, and Lexapro, and according to my adorable little henna painted therapist, who just resigned, I'm in a major depression.
Surgeon General's Warning: Broken Hearts do NOT cause death, only temporary serious injury.I'm brutally honest, emotionally charged, border-line raunchy and at this time, very angry. As I strap on my push up bra and head out to buy the weeks groceries in my brand new thong, low cut jeans, and high heeled black ankle boots, with my chocolate glazed high lights gleaming (it was HIS mid-life crisis but here I am), It occurs to me I have something to say. Me, the good girl whose mother burned her bras and made hamburger helper for dinner but raised a drug free, knits her own scarves and makes pie crust from scratch daughter, I HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY.
So, What is a good broken Step-Ford wife who has lost her mojo to do? Well, it IS 2009. And I'm no Irma Bambach. Starting a blog sounds like a good plan. I have things on my mind. Thoughts I'd like to throw out there in the general anti-verse. Bear with me. Roll with me. Attempt to maintain your dignity while controlling your fiery inner fury and I'll be your partner.