So, my dad got a tattoo…for me. 😍 #birthdate #hellfrozeover #flabbergasted #familyink #sohonored #bestdad
Whenever my period comes unexpectedly I always feel like a detective uncovering the clues left by every slight symptom for the last 24 hours.
"Ah, yes," I say, tapping my pencil on the brim of my old-timer detective’s hat, "it’s all so clear now. It was so obvious."
It’s all actually just a way to justify all the snacks I had last night. SURE, brain. Sure.
Like that was soooo different from every other night.
I’m an oversharer. I only censor to protect others from my tmi tendencies. I’d tell you almost anything if I thought you could handle it.
BUT - I keep my oversharing centered on myself. I would NEVER overshare about my partner.
But MY partner doesn’t seem to understand that there are certain things that I may say to him that are not meant to be repeated.
Like the time we were at an Upper West Side baby shower - all pink and frills and cupcakes - and the mother-to-be was in head-to-toe New York black. I joked with him about the contrast of this image and told him that some people think it’s bad luck to wear black to stuff parties like this.
Which he then told the mother-to-be.
And I got totally chewed out by another guest for it.
This morning is his last session with his trainer of 8 weeks. He asked if I saw a difference and I told him while I did and he looked great, that I don’t think his trainer pushes him hard enough.
Annnnd they came back in the house after the session with the trainer offended and my boyfriend shouting “Eddie’s mad at you!” like a kid who told on his sister.
How hard is it to figure out that some things I say aren’t meant to be shared??? I shouldn’t have to explain that if I say something somewhat negative about someone that he shouldn’t parrot it back to them.
He said “It’s just Eddie! It was funny!”
Yeah. For YOU. Now I’m the bitch who thinks he’s a bad trainer.
He’ll never learn, man.
No explanation needed.