Consider this a rally cry for the gals who are taken for granted.
I’m done with:
Being disrespected under the guise of a joke.
Always being the one to call.
Having to organize and plan even the most mundane tasks.
Not giving myself enough time in the morning to curl my hair.
Taking time out of my busy schedule to help when asked to and not even getting a response.
Only being cared about or hell, even remembered, when it’s convenient.
Not getting a “thank you.”
Cancun still being 3 weeks away.
Having to be the one to carry on the conversation.
Being there for people who have no concern or idea what’s actually going on in my life.
Repeating myself to loved ones over the most basic aspects of my life.
Flying 1400 miles to be met with the inconvenience of driving 20.
Not looking forward to the holidays because I know I’m not going to be visited.
Lame, mile-long excuses, each and every time.
This extra weight I’m carrying.
Being second choice, at best, because I don’t have kids.
Always asking the tough questions.
Inviting the same people time and time again knowing they won’t come.
Sharing an important moment knowing I’m not being listened to.
Not being celebrated the way I celebrate other people’s achievements.
The assumption that I don’t know what I’m doing.
Being too young and too old at the same fucking time.
Second guessing myself.
My iPhone not recognizing my damn fingerprint.
Girl preach. That happens every time I make my way to Michigan. It’s ridiculous.
Caroline Peterson says
I’m not sure people realize it unless they actually are the ones who move, you know? Sorry you have to experience it too!