Getting angry

Julie, (the angel married to Kevin) out of the blue, told me to get angry a few days ago. Try as I may, I just can't seem to conjure those feelings. Haven't I been angry for the last 7 years in this relationship?

I feel sadness and tinges of melancholia, but no anger until today.

I bought an iPod Nano today because hubby took my old one. By the way, if you see a contractor working on your house with a pink Nano, you have my permission to beat him over the head and steal it.

Anywho, after an hour of trying to figure this thing out and even watching a YouTube video on how to work it, I finally got it going. I downloaded a bunch of songs, put on my beloved cherry red running shoes, and got out there.

It didn't take long before I noticed that I had downloaded a bunch of angry "I hate you" rock songs and, for the cool down, Adele.  My subconscious took over and it was obvious that my brain knew best. I ran/walked while having my new Nano on full blast and I think I was even belting out the some of the "I hate you" songs.

I don't know if it was the adrenaline rush and all those endorphins swishing inside my head, but one thing is for sure, I GOT ANGRY!

That great wonderful feeling entered almost every fiber of my being and propelled me forward. I looked down and my fists were clenched as I ran and my concentration was intense. I'm sure I looked frightening in all my fierce 5'1ness because everyone got the hell out of my way (or I just looked awkward running. Whichev).

It was nice getting angry and stirring up those feelings. Being able to understand that the way i was treated WAS unfair no matter how much guilt I feel.

Every one deserves to get angry if they are being treated with horrible disrespect.

Ah, what a sigh of relief. Anger, my old friend, I have found you once again.

Love Yourself First

Therapy can be so healing. I'm in desperate need of a pocket psychologist. Anytime I need a dose of therapy, I'd just take her out, use her, and put her back in my pocket. Awesome.

It's been two weeks since the therapist and I got together. Remember, the LivingSocial people have commandeered my schedule? I had so much to tell her about namely; the God cry, the shoes, the 19 year old, and this amazing blog.

As I start divulging the goings on in my life, I uncover a feeling that I haven't experienced since the break-up, guilt. I started understanding that I had my part to play in this fiasco. How did we get here? Could we have gone to counseling? He was willing. Did I need to call him stupid knowing full well that he was sensitive about his lack of knowledge. I played a part in all this and for that, I felt guilt.

I felt better afterwards and I'm not totally certain how she does it. It's really something and I can't remember a thing she said to me, but I left the building feeling great. Although, something was still gnawing at me and I didn't really know the question to ask or how to even put my finger on it.

My first client was a Russian woman. Ugh, typically the Russian ladies are so high maintenance it drives you nuts. They are the first ones that want the most expensive thing you have, but they want it as cheap as possible. Irina was different. She was just brimming with positivity and good energy.

I'm going through the standard questions: "How are you? What do you do? Etc.." People typically like to talk about themselves and you only need a few leading questions to pop that cork. Irina told me that she's been married 25 years and for some reason I asked her what the secret was to her successful marriage. She looked at me very calmly and stated, "love yourself first."

And there it was. I didn't love myself and, in fact, I lost myself. I used to go exercising, go out with friends, and just have fun. I lost my self esteem and I'm wondering now if I ever even had it when I met him. 

I must go deeper...

I guess we'll be delving in the past. The date's, the men, and the other maladies.

Stay tuned! 

Ms. Gossip

I hate the way people gossip. Okay, I hate when people gossip about me, but I have no problems when people gossip about celebrities.

Anywho, I got home from work early and decided to weed the front yard. Yes, it's starting to look like Avatar plus, I don't want hawt contractor to think I'm a total loser who neglects her home.

My neighbor, Ms. Gossip, has become REALLY friendly lately and doing those annoying "just checkin up on ya,"stop by's. Today was different though and seemed more suspicious than usual.

See, Ms. Gossip's BFF is married to one of hubby's friends (you still following me?). I'm sitting down on the grass doing my weeding thing as Ms. Gossip is strolling down the street talking on her cell phone. She finally gets to my house, see's me, and looks like a deer caught in the headlights. She doesn't say a word to me and just stops, then makes a 180, and walks across the street. While still on the cell phone, she makes sure to get far enough away from me to not hear. After she gets off the phone, she heads back my direction and seems unusually fidgety.

Ms Gossip: "Why are you weeding right now?" (it's 8:00, but it's still really bright out).

Me: "Oh, I just got into the groove of it and thought why not?"

Ms. Gossip: "Ah, okay."

(uncomfortable silence)

Me: "So you talk with your BFF recently?"

Ms. Gossip: " Funny, I was just talking to her. We haven't talked in a while." (I saw BFF over at her house 2 days ago).

Me: "Is her hubby being good?"

Have you ever seen a gossipy person almost explode? By this time she is not just fidgety, but downright uncomfortable. She can't keep eye contact, she doesn't know what to do with her hands, and she even rests two fingers over her mouth as to not suddenly blurt out her secret. Then some weird mumbo-jumbo gibberish comes out of her mouth that doesn't make any sense and then tells me she has to go check on her son. She moved so fast, I swear, smoke came off her heels.(*zoooom*)

Honestly people, the gossip's of the neighborhood are actually making my life seem interesting and this has to be the dullest I have ever been. It's just work, weeding, and Netflix! These people are married. Shouldn't they be having sex or something?

I swear, if you guys ever feel weird about your own singledom, just think, there are married people out there that have it worse and find your life cool.

Celibacy,weeding, work, and Netflix = cool.

Mi Familia!

Ah, today I marked myself out and spent a wonderful afternoon with my sister. Mani's, pedi's, and great conversation.

I made that woman get some girly time just because she looked a mess! Spending till 1:00am working on her thesis to get her master's degree had taken it's toll.

The great thing about having a friend or relative in the salon industry is that we all know where to get the best services. Besides all that, the main reason you want to suck up to a person in the industry, you get free access to any beauty supply shop.

We spent hours perusing different supply houses looking for the best toenail and fingernail polishes. Would you like some of the most expensive hair gel? Why yes, and it's 50% off!

I so needed that time, but I wish I could relax more. She was talking to me an awful lot and I felt like I was distracted. We all went to dinner with my son to a cute Italian restaurant and I was hoping that my husband didn't walk in (forgetting that his favorite restaurants consist of panda express type places or basically anywhere you could take an 18 year old).

It was nice chilling out and listening to my son and my sister banter back and forth to each other. I still can't eat, but that didn't stop me from enjoying the festivities.

Once we got back to the house, we talked for hours. They want me to give my ex's cat away at a no-kill shelter and start getting my house back to shape. The goal is to rent out the house by next year and I move into the big city. I'm not sure that's exactly what I want, but it would be nice to just call up a landlord if I need a repair or for him to kill the bug, etc.

My neighbor got home yesterday from his home town. His father died and although I feel badly, I can't help but still feel peeved that he was making me uncomfortable living in my own neighborhood. My ex has been rubbing up against the neighbor and the bag boys at the local supermarket (they play video games together..winning!). Popularity means more to my ex then him growing a personality or just growing in general.

Being around my family today was awesome. It reminds me that you can really pull strength from those who love you and they almost give it to you willingly. They have a vested interest in seeing you on your feet again and they are your healers.

Plus, my mani/pedi looks amazing!

There's a Mouse in my Pee-Pad!

After I took a shower this morning, I heard little noises. Now, it didn't really startle me because I have a couple animals and they make all sorts of rumblings on the side of the house. Just my fat cat jumping the fence can feel like an earthquake.

I go back into the bathroom to put my face on (with my new makeup, thank you) and now I can really hear it. Scratches. Loud scratches. In fact, it sounds like my cat is doing that annoying kneading thing with his paws all over a plastic grocery bag, but the cat is no where to be found.

As I put down my new amethyst colored eyeliner, my heart starts to race and I can't move. The wrestling bag noise gets louder and louder. I tentatively look around my bathroom, but I have no idea where that plastic bag sound is coming from. And then it dawns on me, the only thing I have in the bathroom that is in a plastic bag, are my Always Plus Ultra-Liners.

Grabbing my makeup, I run out the door and slam it shut. I'm in a panic not only because I really don't like the fact that some field mouse has set up shop in my panty liners, but also because I NEED MY PEE-PADS! If you have had a kid or two and are a little older, you know what I'm talking about. This means a day without laughing or sneezing (it's a bad allergy season) until I can make it back to Walgreen's.

I'm so afraid to go home, but I need to establish dominance with this critter and let him know that you just can't go around stealing women's pee-pads!

I'm also pissed off because I know the offending mouse is getting through a hole in my house created by my husband's dog, Daisy. She chewed through the siding of my house and I'm sure was a relative of that dog Marley from the movie. Damn him and his spazoid dog!

Thankfully, hawt construction guy called me today and left a message. He would love to do a trade with me (hopefully, it doesn't involve him thinking I'm going anywhere near the peen. Mama don't play that) and wants to come over to see what needs to be done at the house. Ugh, I have to get to the pee-pads before he see's them.

I need to clean up my house before he comes over and I don't know what day that will happen. It's silly because he is there to help me and is kind of like when you hire someone to clean your house, you like to tidy up first. Hey, you don't want them thinking your a slob!

Maybe he can scare off the pee-pad mouse with his blue eyes, muscular build, and his balding head. Gotta love it.

The Example

Okay, I understand it's hard to conjure up compassion at a time when you want to rip someone's throat out or are fantasizing about their demise.

Today, I ran the gamut of emotions. It was almost like I was sitting in a field of daisies..."I despise him...I despise him not. I feel sorry for him...not. He can change...not, not (pluck, pluck)." 

See, what ruined me was my friend Julie and her husband Kevin. Now Kevin was the worst of the worst and just so happens to be a very close childhood friend to my own husband. Kev was so bad that he decided to go to his bachelor party and get tanked the night before his wedding. The bachelor party was hosted by my husband and included, as per Kevin's request, a myriad of seedy strip clubs. The groom-to-be was so blotto that he got into a fight (he's Irish, so he feels drunken brawls are in his DNA) with his cousin. The strip club called the cops, the cops arrested Kev, and once in the back seat of the squad car, he promptly projectile vomited all over the policemen in front. My husband sprang him and got still blotto Kev down the isle in time to get married to poor sweet Julie.

We all think Julie is a saint because Kevin not only did that, but he had his brother and tons of friends living with them. Julie's house was a revolving door of messiness, friends, video games, and drunkenness. It was weird because Julie was (and still is) a psychologist. Besides the obvious fact that she should have known better, she had an amazing job and Kev, well, he was a janitor. An ill-behaved janitor at that.

Every time they would go look for a new place to live, Kevin would test out the bathroom floor by laying on it to see if it was comfortable. He knew 9 times out of 10, that would be the place he would be spending the night during one of his benders.

By year 7, (yes, this went on for 7 years) Julie had enough. She packed her bags and went to her parents house. She was done. Finito. Who could blame her? Kev was awful. We were all in agreement that they should divorce. They were NEVER right for each other. She liked school. He liked booze. She ran marathons. He liked video games. The list was endless.

The first three months Kev was in a drunken stupor. He was like a heartbroken naughty child with a valid I.D. He did everything Julie did not want him to do. Then by month three, it was like a bell went off. All of a sudden, Kevin got into seeing a therapist. He also went to see a psychiatrist to get on anti-depressants and decided to take his brawling spirit to the gym. He got into wrestling and started loving getting his butt off the couch.

Julie was getting calls from him to join him in couples counseling. She would always promptly reject him and hang up. Kevin would find out where she would be running her marathons and stand at the finish line with bunch of wilted daisies. Over and over again the calls would come. Him begging her to see him, come to counseling, and him showing up at the marathons. Each time getting rejected and sent away.

After a year of this, Julie started to bend. They went to couples counseling and are back together years later. Not saying that everything is perfect. I mean Julie was already out of the relationship, so going back in and finding feelings for Kevin was struggle. But, they are expecting their first child at the end of the year.

This story is amazing just in the fact that now I know that no matter how bad someone can be, they will move mountains to change if it's time and they are ready.

It's not that my husband never loved me, it's that he isn't ready to change and that is okay. The only person I can change is myself.

Did I tell you that I'm at 193lbs and that I feel amazing?

The God cry

On the full-disclosure track that I'm on, I wanted to tell you about last Saturday's cry-out.

I call it my "God-cry" because I had never felt a pain so deep. I have been pushing things down for the past 3 months just to get through spring term, but two days after finals, the cracks in the dam came.

Saturday's are the hardest for me because we would typically do things, if we ever did anything, would be on a Saturday.

As I'm walking to my car looking like Consuela with my laundry basket overflowing from the days facial clients, I start to cry. I start hobbling as fast as I can to my car and I can't run because the damn sheets are so heavy. Finally in my car, I put on my sunglasses, drove away, and began to cry.

I got home and fell to my knees on the living room floor. I didn't need just a tissue, I needed a beach towel. I sobbed. As I was crawling on my knees to my computer to leave my son a suicide letter, something changed. On my knees, I asked God for help. To please make the pain go away because I can't handle it. I'm not much of a God person, but I felt like he broke the deal where he was supposed to give me only as much as I could handle. I couldn't handle this.

I cried for hours and couldn't reach anyone on the phone. My lifelines were all missing and it was devastating. Thankfully, there was a show on Netflix and the 6 day work week caught up with me. I fell asleep on my pillow, beach towel/handkerchief, in a pool of tears, and with Netflix on.

That saying is really true about feeling better in the morning. I went for a long walk and breathed the fresh air.

I talked with Slosha later and she told me that the same thing happened to her, the the positive thing is that she never felt that way again. A week later and I can confess that it is true. I do feel sad and generally crappy at times, but I don't feel terrible. It's like the really deep sadness came out of me with every tear drop and it was healing.

Now off to the market. My son wants a BIG Sunday dinner. LOL, what we do for our kids....

Relaxing Sunday.

Even though I've been up for hours, I'm still in my comfy "eating" robe. You know the one, it's warm, comfy, and has all the food stains on it.

I just got out of bed just to make a couple eggs with toast and coffee. Ah, breakfast in bed and to make things complete, I put on Netflix.

To keep on with my bent towards documentaries lately, I watched the movie "Buck".

Yet again, I'm reminded that even though we may have come from difficult childhoods, we have a choice on how we are going to act as adults. We have the choice to control our emotions but, some of us have it harder than others.

I can't help but wonder how my husband would have been if he had made the choice to control himself and his emotions.

It's goes along with my eating/gorging myself all those years. Maybe it is a little harder for me because I have made it a habit to not try and harness my emotions, but to stuff them down with food all throughout my marriage. Kind of like the way my ex stuffed himself with booze, constant manic-like activity, and various other things.

Sometimes the people who are actually numbing their emotions out could be the greatest healers of our world. It's a choice and it takes less than a second to change your perception.

Take this Sunday to do some healing. Whether it's for yourself or for someone in need and watch this movie.

 Ugh, I think I want a horse now, but can someone else clean up the poo? I don't think I have the right shoes for that. 

Happy

This venom spewing I have been doing lately has finally come up against a force more powerful than anything. Happiness.

I just got through watching the "Happy" movie and then I watched...

Both incredible movies that show how really powerful our thoughts are. I highly recommend both. In fact, I'm ordering you to go get these movies and watch them immediately. Thank you.

It's odd how much venom I was spewing today and how much pain I was in. I heard from a very elegant client of mine who I know is speaking with my ex. As we were texting each other back and forth, I couldn't help but tell her how great I was doing.

"Oh yes, I have lost weight...blah, blah...I'm thinking about my new fall wardrobe....blah, bittyblah.....I just got a Brazilian wax (a total lie)." 

After a while, she wasn't writing me back anymore. Did I go too far? Was he talking to her right then and there? I started having visions of her showing him my texts and he feels like crap. I bet he actually called me all kinds of curse words knowing that I had falsely admitted to getting something he had wanted me to do for years, wax my vajayjay.

As I am watching "I Am", my phone shows there is a new text message. My clients mother-in-law just collapsed and was rushed to ICU. They don't think she's going to make it. And then it hit me.

There are things out there that are bigger then the pain that I am going through. That I have been a wee bit self-absorbed into my own crap that I have neglected the hurts of others that are sometimes worse. This world is greater then me.

This doesn't mean that I'm going to go all altruistic on you. I have a many a grip left in me, but those damn movies got me and you must...

Buy them now and tell 'em Auntie Ann sent you ;)

Fantasizing

This working 6 days a week, blows. I'm so tired that I may fall asleep whilst writing this blog.

Anywho, my day wasn't as exciting as yesterdays. No hot married construction guys coming in so I could massage their hairy faces. But, as I'm in the check out line at Walgreen's buying my toiletries, I notice this:

I'm sorry but, if you haven't seen Michael Fassbender in "Shame" you should rent it right now. Ahem, he is packing a small anaconda in his nether regions and he's drool worthy. Don't get too into the movie because it will make you forget or feel bad about obsessing over his amazing manhood.

The married contractor reminded me a little of him with that Irish/German...uh, that white guy look.

When I got home, I finally ran into the nosy neighbors ("The Looky-Loo's") I have been avoiding. You know the ones that have their shades slightly open all the time so they don't miss any suburban excitement. Well, this time I saw them coming and I leaned into it. I know they knew all the gossip on my ex's side but it was my duty to inform them of the truth in my subtle and nonchalant way.

I told the ultra-Christian Looky-Loo's that my husband is with a girl that is 19 and they looked horrified. I went on to explain everything, but now I've got the speech encapsulated and in Reader's Digest form for easy retrieval at any time. I toss them all the info and leave knowing that they hunger for more.

Unfortunately, after I got back from my Walgreen's trip, I saw an invitation to a 4th of July block party stuck on my door. Oh, those Looky-Loo's are so friggin good when they want information!

I must get out of town. Slosha invited me to one of her soirees and I'm sure, just because it's her, there will be booze.

You know how your Mom would make you cookies or hot cocoa when you got hurt? When you grow up and you're getting a divorce, women give you wine and there is no one better a that, then Slosh.

So I say thank you Lord, you saved me again and thank you Slosha for making me drink through this entire process.

I do feel better. I just want my thighs to be thinner.

Retail therapy

I find retail therapy to be just the quick fix I need sometimes.

Here are my new shoes from last night. Even though I have no where to wear them, they just looked sexy on my foot and plus, they have elastic.

I heard life-flight go over my house last night. I thought my husband had finally shot himself and was wondering what a suitable outfit would be for the funeral. Black, but could I wear my new strappy sandals? Too much?

I was able to slip into most of my client interactions what an idiot my husband is. It wasn't until a nice handsome contractor walked in to get a facial, that I changed my tune. There's something about a guy who works with his hands and his blue eyes weren't too bad either. Hey, I'm at 194.6 and feeling for the first time that my mo-jo is coming back.

I imagined him working on my house. Oh my goodness, there is something about a man working on your house! As I spread the algae mask (it smells like low tide and dead fish or something else not worth mentioning), I imagine him in my house looking over all the repairs he can do for me (free, of course). He grabs me and pulls me to his mouth. It was so passionate and never mind the fact that he has full facial hair (it's neatly trimmed!) that typically leaves me with red face rash. He lifts me like I'm a dried leaf and puts me on my cooking island. He can't wait to delve down into the thing...well, you know, THAT thing. The thing we all love the most and my husband wouldn't do. Did I mention hubby is a two-pump chump? Nooo...back to the fantasy!

Anywho, he said goodbye, tipped me, and when back to his hot wife who was waiting for him.

My next client was this gorgeous 5'10 model. She wasn't wearing makeup and had on a cute little black sundress. She's absolutely stunning and left her modeling career to teach forth graders. Ugh...I want to hate her, but she's nice. As I imagine her life as the perfect wife and mom, I see this skin tag. Now, I usually don't give a shit about a skin tag, but this one was particularly upsetting. It was on her collar bone and stuck way the hell out. In fact, it looked more like some chewed up nipple on her collarbone then a skin tag. Why doesn't she get that thing burned or gnawed off? I could barely concentrate and didn't dare touch it. It sounds terrible, but that is one of the best things about my job, the ability to see that no one, not matter how gorgeous, is perfect. Pretty women can have nasty hammer or fungus toes and all sorts of other issues. I don't care what you say, it makes me feel better.

You know what also makes me feel better? More retail therapy!

Thank you, Sephora sales lady.

Then I get home seeing that my sister has sent me feel-good documentaries and the Jane Austen collection. I don't know why she would feel that Jane Austen's "we are all wealthy, happy, and married" crap is going to make me feel better, but the gesture was nice.

I stop stalker Sue, my neighbor from down the street, while she's getting her mail. The reason I call her "stalker Sue" is because we used to go on walks and she's kind of a latch-on type of person. I couldn't get away. She wanted to be around me all the time. But, I feel so good and retailed out that the icing on the cake would for stalker Sue to see this 19 year old and her middle finger. I proudly pull up her Facebook page and there is a new photo next to her middle finger photo. In fact, it looks a lot like a sappy Hallmark card. It says, "Ever since I met you nobody else is worth thinking about (insert heart shape)".

This cannot be the man that I married.

Nausea helps your jean size

I started out at 213.6 (I know this because it's written in eyeliner on my bathroom mirror) and now I've lost close to 20 pounds.

The trajectory I am on is actually going to get me down to a small size and then I'll see him while looking fabulous and make him feel like shit. That's the plan. Now, the vomity/ diarrhea stuff that's happening is, I suppose, something to embrace. There must be something wonderful that comes out of this nausea. Hell, when all else fails, you might as well look good in your jeans.

I left work at about 7:30 and darted right to Nordstrom rack. I can't buy clothes because everything I'm wearing is hanging off me anyway and I need to save my money for a new wardrobe. No, no people, I need some new shoes.

Nevermind, the fact that I have been on my feet all day. As I try on my regular 7 1/2 I notice I can barely get one toe in. I go up to 8's but the sexy toe cleavage pumps looks more like foot fat trying to escape out of a peep hole. I need to at least drink more water, I mean for God's sake, I have cankles!

Thankfully I found some slings with elastic.

Love and the middle finger

I'm really proud of myself today because I've only looked or researched my husbands 19 year old flame less then 12 times. Yes, she's a freshman at the local community college and she plays rugby. She is also almost 6' tall blonde while I'm a paltry 5'1 brunette. Don't worry, I've been told by various friends that if I keep doing this, my internet privileges will be taken away.

I keep thinking about that poor lady yesterday. She probably has a daughter that isn't utilizing her middle finger.

Yes, that is the 19 year old's Facebook cover photo, a pic of her with a backwards baseball cap and she's flipping the bird with her tongue sticking out. The twitter pic is no better with her very Aryan looking self making gangsta hand signals.

There can be nothing better then having your best friends huddled around an ipad looking horrified at the sight of your husbands new girlfriend. My closest friend, I'll call her Slosha, slowly looks over at me while trying not to spill her champagne, "Wow, you must be really embarrassed." Ugh...

Need. More.Wine.

Tomato Vs. Pear

Yes, I've lost it. Kiss my ass goodbye because this is the end. I have gone insane.

Typically, I would never do a LivingSocial promotion, but it seemed like the perfect remedy to keep my mind busy through a nasty separation.

Yesterday, was supposed to be a good day. I mean I've lost 25 pounds already. Never mind it being because of my constant state of nausea, the point is, I lost it.

I am walking on air as I prance my way to work. The LivingSocial promotion has sold close to 400 coupons and I am booked for yet another 12 hour day. Currently, I'm working 6 days a week because the coupon people have commandeered my online scheduler. You never want to get in the way of a coupon person and their right to cash in a discount.

I'm enthusiastic though and practically dance my way to my first facial/coupon client. The first lady gave me love and hugs. Praised my technique and my ability to make her skin look so nice. As I look over at the table, I see she has left no tip. I asked if she truly enjoyed the facial (*hint, hint*) and she said yes. Now, this isn't a surprise for me because most coupon people do not tip...at all. Do they know I am getting only 50% of the cut on that facial and that my profit is a measly $17 bucks per facial?

The next client hands me a wad of bills that looks like she found them in the bottom of the laundry pile. It's $3.00 and I'm going to need some sterilizing gel after picking them up.

Third client is a lovely mid-50's very slim patrician looking woman. Well coiffed and conservative looking. She says since she'd hit menopause, her skin is dry. As I get started, I can't help but notice that she is rambling in her elegant way about different maladies that have happened during her post-menopausal state.

Mid-50 malady: "You know the doctor says I'm pear shaped and that can pose problems down the line for me."

Me: "Wait, I'm pear shaped. What did he say?" 

Mid-50 malady: "He said pear shaped dear, not tomato." 

Forth coupon client bursts into my room. I'm used to this by now. Like I said, you don't want to interfere with a coupon person and their ability to redeem a discount.

She's petite, blonde, mid-50's, and yes, like most of the coupon clients, she's wealthy. I started getting suspicious about the time she was asking me specific questions about my relationship. Then she tells me she has 3 daughters, my husband is now dating a girl. One daughter lives in Montreal. Holy crap, my husband is dating a girl who lives in Vancouver, B.C. (it's all Canada, right?). Her youngest daughter is 19 and lastly, I know it's a spy because the girl my husband is dating is...19!

Oh, this so makes sense to me now. See, my husband and her daughter got together and being the conscientious mother she is, wanted to check me out. Luckily she had the LivingSocial coupon or maybe they were seeing each other before that and she just bought the coupon then.

I couldn't let this opportunity go. She must know the truth! So I started saying horrible things about my husband. Letting her know we have only been separated just 3 months now, he's got 3 garnishments against him, and he's got a drinking problem. Oh, it just goes on and on until I see she has a really uncomfortable smile. In fact, I think she may be a little frightened. I try to back track and make light of it, she asks how a 19 year old could be with a man in his 40's.

Me: "Oh, he's not in his 40's, he's in his 30's."

Frightened coupon lady: "Wow, you must be the cradle robber in that relationship?"

I actually thought I looked good that day.