Well, at least now I know what "well enough" meant, and I was right - it's never ever going to happen. Apparently I'm overweight and chronically ill so obviously I shouldn't eat cake EVER and I need to stop putting all the adult decisions on him.
The first part is obvious, the conclusion makes me think he's been talking to or rather listening to sources I thought he agreed with me were batshit crazy. But apparently not.
I've been overweight since I was five months old. This is not fucking new. I was fat when he met me, granted I'm way grossly fatter now, but I was still fucking fat.
Hell, less than a month before my birthday he was bringing me home someone else's birthday cupcakes. So it was okay then, but suddenly now I'm not allowed to ever have cake again?!
And what the hell, he'll celebrate a friend's birthday, he'll share cake with HER, but he won't with me?!?!??? I'm his wife, he's supposed to be happy I was born damnit.
So, yeah I'm overweight. Yeah I'm chronically ill. No, I shouldn't have cake every day but birthday cake is fucking sacred, and who he fuck is he to decide what I do and don't eat?!
My brain can't stop replaying it. I'm too fat to have cake on my own god damn birthday....
He is right though -- I'm obviously incapable of making any adult decisions. I'm a useless piece of shit and I really don't understand why the fuck he's still married to me, but I'm too chickenshit to ask.
Also, I'm so ragingly mad right now anything I say is going to come out wrong. But I don't think there is a right way to say any of the things I'm thinking.
I just wish I was dead. Everyone would be so much better off if I was just dead. I wouldn't be such a horrible burden. He woudln't have to take care of me. He'd be guilt free to go date healthy skinny women. My parents could stop worrying about their broken down, useless daughter who will never be able to take care of herself. And I could stop living in hell. Everyone wins. Just shoot me now.
I hate myself so much I just want to bash my own head in.