Backhanded complement?

How we perceive our selves is something that a lot of things factor, how we were brought up, where we lived, if we had money, friends, siblins, family and accomplishments. But it's also ever changing how people speak to us, look at us, view us, and interact with us, and who finds us worth interacting with. It's interesting how you can feel great about yourself 1 second and someone can say something in passing conversation to them that to you is like someone came out and smacked you across the chest with a huge baseball bat. Comments that make you stop and think, are they completely clueless or didn't they realize I would take offense at that? Now don't get me wrong I don't take everything to heart, in fact I've learned to really just let things roll off my back, to spin when the bat hits so it doesn't leave a bruise, to pull up my steel shield and block the blow away as it's happening and to just move out of the way so they don't hit me at all, but sometimes, just sometimes I don't see that big ole' bat coming into it's hit me squarely and knocked me over. Yesterday I received one of those knock-me-over blows, along with a few spinners, what really caught me about these was they weren't the usual ones I receive. The ones I am used to "You look good... for having 5 kids" the "Your house is clean... for living on a farm" or "your house is clean... for having 5 kids" the "I don't know how you manage" with a look of pity in their eyes. Those are normal; those I've come to expect; those I've gotten used to\. I eagerly await the day when someone will not finish those sentences and stop at the compliment which is why I spend hours a week at the gym, and twice that scrubbing baseboards, getting rid of small clutter items, ripping up stained and shredded carpet just to name a few, and have a list a mile long of things that need to be fixed on the house and farm just as soon as I can. But these were different in another way to, they were from a source that is outside of my normal mommy/school/farmer circles. Not a social worker, a doctor, or a trainer. But rather, a friend, a man, a cutie with the best smile and eyes that suck me in, and keep me daydreaming for days. Someone who never comments on the crap in my life or the state of my place, only listens to what I choose to say and not the small town gossips, talks with out worry or heartache, and says not to worry his house is a mess to. A guy who if he's around will take the time to play a game of tag with the kids just because, a guy's guy that baffles me and confuses me, and interests me all at the same time, while not trying to hide his flaws and imperfections. So when his godson made a comment "let's go in age order: me first, then Guy, then Girl (me being the girl and the same age as Guy), I laughed and said what? I'm not the oldest! How old do you think I am? and he said 40. I asked how old he thought his dad was, he said 30. He was wrong on both accounts, since we are both early 30's, but I looked to my friend and asked him how old do you think I look? I know typical girl question, and a question that I thought was in the male handbook given to all boys the day they got their first hard-on. You know the one? the one that has the answers to the questions, "Do these pants make my butt look fat?" "Does this haircut make me look old?" " Is she cuter than me?" You know those ones. with the strict instructions to deny, deny, deny? yeah apparently he didn't get this book, either. How did he answer? He answered " You look 35-36, 5 kids will do that to you." What? What did he just say? And then proceeded on with " I still get carded". Yep, WHACK! A big ole' baseball bat out of nowhere, knocked me over. I just went with it and went last, since it turns out I'm a few months older once we did the birthDAY check, (not birth YEAR) same year different month. Now I know that this should not still be bothering me 2 days later, but it is, and it's become another one of those things that I need to fix, or erase, so that one day I will never, ever, ever hear it again. I think this one is even worse because I don't think I look old, no age spots, no weird pigmentation issues, no scars. Actually I thought my face looked better than ever, thin and trim brows and no stray whiskers or noticeable upper lip hair ( I am very fond of hot wax and tweezers!), no double chin, the only wrinkles I see are frown lines, no visible greys, neutral makeup with foundation/powder, mascara, and lip gloss. I wear a size 6 jean, dress age appropriately for the most part ( if anything I dress to conservatively!) and have all my teeth, white and strait. I am saddened that my self esteem is so low that this phases me, perplexed how the heck to fix it, and frustrated at Guy's response. I have spent the evening searching the internet for some help on this problem but it turns out stress, and abuse, and inadequate nutrition can make one age prematurely and there really isn't anything that can be done about it.

really? I don't think so!

Today started out great and then made an unexpected left turn, and then continued to baffle me with what had just happened until I was at the point where I sat on the phone with my best friend, while she was outside freezing her ass off with church youth group in abox, with tears silently streaming down my face as I voiced for the first time what the new horrible choices I was going to have to face because of the abusive asshole I choose to marry. But here's the thing, his newest surprise for me i learned over 2 weeks ago, and hadn't told anyone because really why bother? Who needs others shit muddling up your life? Instead I had chosen to keep getting out there and trying to find happyness and fun in my life in aspects I could control, or at least thought I could. Now if I had written this 3 hours ago before I went to the bar with the thought in my head to get drunk this would be a very different story, but I didn't and so it's not.

AS I sat at the bar, drinking my second drink in 5 minutes and staring at the football game on tv, not even trying to be cute or flirty but pissed, and angry, and let down inside, the band began playing a song, one with a good tempo and a beat and words that I knew as I started singing along with the lady next to me as she ordered her drinks with perfectly manicured loong black nails and a precisly ripped shirt I heard the words anew. And they spoke to me and I embraced them and I must agree. I am dynamite damit! I am raising 5 kids on a farm, doing the farm work, working 2 friggin jobs, going to school full time, working my ass off at the gym 5 hours a week, and manage to take care of everything these kids need because $24 a week does NOT feed a kid, much less clothe it, diaper it, give it health insurance vitamins and dental, and pay for classes sports and everything else they need and desire, so I am dynamite damit! And for all those fuckers who think I'm not you can suck it!



Oh and FYI assholes with out any kids, Kids don't make you look older no matter how many you have, on the contrary they keep you young running your ass off with them, singing, and playing and laughing. Domestic abuse is what makes mothers and women look old, assholes like you who treat them like shit every stinking day of their lives until they finally see the liggt one way or another.