Second Post

last night, i was looking at jezebel.com. The article i was reading was graced with pictures of a tabloid cover showing celebrities' "cellulite-y asses" and less-than-perfect bodies. Our son asked for something and i got up to get it. My husband leapt on the the computer, and he started screaming... ohh...aggghhh.. what is this youre looking at... close these sites when you get up from the computer... these pictures are sickening... i don't want MY children seeing these pictures."

it was after all Christmas day. i made an effort to answer calmly... I was just reading the article...i said, there's nothing wrong with it

Stop talking about it! these pictures...

My voice was rising hysterically "I'll look at any pictures I want!- get out of my house!" I went in to the bathroom, and locked the door. i wanted to pee, but I was so angry the pee wouldn't come. My daughter was waiting outside the bathroom door with a white face. "Momy, I want to got to bed now."

End of Christmas day.
I hate him. Oh God how I hate him. If I could poison him I would. I have prayed for his death so many times. No fucking use. He's still in my life, large as life and twice as natural. I hate him I hate him i hate him ihatehim ihatehimihatehim

The First Post

This is blog to record how much , and in how many different ways, I hate my husband. For family reasons I do not want get separated from him, though I have ample grounds for doing so. And for the same sorts of reasons, noone really knows for a fact that I hate him, although of course there is enough specualtion, family life being what it is. It is important for me that The Family never know. This is why this blog is very private. Only you can read it, and you don't know me or him.

Right now, he asked me to make a pot of tea. He sees that I am typing. Yet he still asks me for tea. He resents me whenever I am sitting down, doing something which does not involve him or the kids. I told him to put the kettle on, and he said his hands smelled of fish. This was reference to the fact that he got the kids' supper, not me, as I was glued to the monitor (reading the Guardian, actually). Because of the probation though, he does not make a fuss about it. Does not dare to. Before the probation, not-making-tea-and-remaining-glued-to-the-monitor would have resulted in sulks, fights, and eventually verbal and physical abuse. However, I want to the wheel of our lives roll smoothly, so in a little while, I shall get up and indeed put the kettle on and pour him a cup of tea.

Before that, let me just emphasize again how much I hate him.