Cuckoo

I always say that women get bad press. They are always accused of being psychopaths or being jealous and needy and wanting attention constantly. I try my absolute hardest to prove that women are totally justified in our actions or emotions.
Women being told they are insane or crazy when they are just feeling upset is a surefire way to light something inside us and make us twenty times worse so I try to keep a lid on things.
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Then last night happened.
And before I get into this story I want to point out that:
1) No, it was not my time of the month.
2) No, I am not pregnant.
3) No, I am not tired or depressed.
Anyway.
I had come home from work absolutely starving which immedietly puts me in a bad mood. I said goodbye to Martyn as he was going to rugby training and I started to make tea for us both and pack lunches for the next day. I sneakily ate some ham and an apple to curb the hunger, and ended up making myself not want my tea.
I cleaned the kitchen and went upstairs for a bath and as the water was running I got into my dressing gown and caught sight of my body in the mirror and immediately felt sad.
Then Martyn rang to say he was on his way home and asked me if I had got up to much.
“No, made tea, made pack up, walked the dogs, and now I’m running a bath.”
He must have sensed my tone because he asked why I was annoyed that I had done those things and I explained I wasn’t and I would see him when he got home.
Bet he couldn’t wait to get home to me..
When he walked in I announced that I wanted plastic surgery and I didn’t care how much it cost because I should be able to love my body.
By this point I knew that I was on the train to crazy town and it was a direct route, no stops or breaks.
I should also point out that while I’m not poor, I am in no way able to afford any plastic surgery. At the end of the month I wouldn’t be able to buy a plaster for a cut on my finger, let alone a tummy tuck, a boob job and liposuction on my leg that I insisted I needed.
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Martyn said: “You are being silly. Why do you want plastic surgery? Just keep up with your swimming and healthy eating and you’ll be exactly where you need to be.”
Normally that would be a perfectly fine answer, but I had become unhinged and it had translated to: “We can’t afford plastic surgery, just keep eating right and you will have the body I want you to have.”
My ‘episode’ lasted about three hours. Between my sobs (yes I cried) and calling my thighs a “knee fringe” along with every other name under the sun, Martyn persisted with my meltdown and tried to make me feel better.
At one point I was stood in the kitchen in a swimming costume pointing at parts of my body I hated.
I know that I am not coming off great on this story but I am telling you this because I know women do get a bad rep about being needy or crazy.
But do you know what? So bloody what.
Maybe we do cry because there is stuff about our bodies that we hate, and sometimes we need our partners to understand that.
Maybe instead of us being crazy, we are just struggling to express how we feel for fear that we will either be ignored or misunderstood.
For years, women who speak up are rationalised as crazy or psychotic but that is just not the case.
I’m glad that I’ve found someone who will take the time to not only listen to what I have to say but find a solution and make it ok.
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And if any girl feels like they need to let a bit of psycho out, my door is always open.
Or if my story has scared you into never visiting me, you can just send me a message.

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My name is Rochelle. I'm a twenty something journalist from the North. I love travelling, reading, writing and watching movies. Even though I love exploring, there is no place like home. I live with my little dog Henry. I have a wonderful family a great set of friends and an amazing boyfriend.

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