Diary Of A Single Baby Boomer Bitch 1
Without Prejudice
My name is Cass Edwards, I am single, a Baby Boomer and definitely a Bitch. The reason I know I am a bitch is that I have raised three strong bitches, I get called one by my exes, and I prefer the term Bitch to Mouse, or any other term that denotes a milk weed, sop or trodden on door mat.
The 3 bitches I raised are strong, happy, resourceful and will slap, beat up on or otherwise threaten any male that comes along and blocks their way, women too. Verbally they can be brilliant, one and her Sister getting into a car park argument once with girl Queenslanders, the argument finished and over when my oldest one stared at the girls and stated firmly,
" Nice GOLD shoes "
No one that lives in Melbourne would wear gold shoes during the day. Nor handbag, belt or even accessories, gold attire best left to the doyens of " Ladies who lunch " and get mostly pissed, on expensive Chardy in the tiny village that is The Gold Coast.
I am single, now, apparently, as I am a Bitch.
I was married once in the past, engaged once and lived with someone once until his Son slashed my clothes and I left after my ex suggested that my expensive clothes might have already been slashed when I moved in with him. The first day, as I crossed the threshold under my own hefty weight, my glasses crashed down to the ground and broke. I should have seen it as a portent to doom but didn't and should have fled post haste.
Married life lasted twenty years, engagement ten and the " living with" five. I think that is long enough out of anyone's life to obey, honour and do as one is told to. Imagine how many dishes, I washed, nappies I changed, kids and adult, and am now free to be the Bitch I was always meant to be.
The meals prepared alone would stagger most women, one partner liking only meat and three veg, he stated once He would be happy to have meat, roast, steak or lamb chops, mashed potatoes, mashed pumpkin and peas and gravy for every meal for the rest of his life
He also stated I was the only person he knew that could prepare a meal from nothing within minutes. That was mainly as he would never pay housekeeping money, that was to be provided by me, whether I had a baby nursing at the breast, had the flu or was otherwise engaged. There were no excuses. He would often bang the dining table causing the teapot to fly upwards and shower us all with hot tea.
He also liked to stir his tea with a teaspoon until he threatened to wear out the bottom, dink it on the side until someone stopped him, dink, dink, dink and then touch it hot on the back of my hand causing me to jump. 365 days of the year, every year for twenty years. It was a joke that grew old very quickly.
He also liked to creep up behind me and shout boo and watch as I jumped, every time. Once watching Psycho, first time for me, he barrelled head first through the window causing me to jump up with horror, heart beating a tattoo against my chest. I hated him then. I probably did from the time he tricked me into marrying him, telling his Mother I was pregnant at 17.
He had wanted me to get rid of the baby and he brought home a friend from work that gave me little green pills that ultimately didn't work. I then took a day off work after writing to my parents in Sydney, telling them I wanted the baby but not him. I looked everywhere for my bank book and only
stopped searching when he came home to the flat we shared with my brother.
He held out my lost bank book,
" Looking for this ? " he said and I pretended to be puzzled.
" I read your letter, before you sent it. "
I opened my mouth like a gasping goldfish.
" I know what's going on " he stated.
" But it's too late I've rung my Mother and she said, looks like we are having a wedding then."
My parents arrived within the hour like the avenging angels they were and dragged me back to Sydney. My Mother offered me an abortion but I said no.
My parents also decided we would have to marry and promised to help. We were married within six weeks and I did it all by myself. I wore my Sisters dress, booked the Church, reception and one night Honeymoon.
And my parents had to give permission as I was 17. He was late to the Church and we had to drive around and around until he finally arrived having shaved off his beard and moustache. I thought he looked white, skinny and ugly. My nephew at two held on to my train and tried to pull me backwards. I should have let him.
We married in Campbelltown on the Fourth of July, so much for Independence.
His Mother leaned her head in the wedding car window and said,
" Let me be the first to call you, Mrs Cook " I felt strange hearing the name and a little bit more grown up. The reception was fun but the Honeymoon was a disaster. My white trousseau covered in grey gravel inside the pristine white suitcase. My brothers idea of a not very funny joke.
My father in law refused to come as he said his a son was a Bastard.
We didn't sleep together that night. He was drunk and slept open mouthed, snoring, while I wept over my ruined clothing. Then we both contracted gastro.
We went up to Newcastle from Sydney for one night and then drove home, blowing the clutch in Warrnambool in the old XP station wagon with it's blue and white gingham curtains in the back. We arrived home to a stone cold Melbourne and $5 to our name.
From day one he was a stranger to me. He showed off photos of his ex girlfriend to his mates and mainly ignored me. I soon found out he hated affection and would push me away roughly if I went to hug or kiss him. I didn't know how much he hated affection. He had never been brought up with such nonsense he said.
If people on the tv kissed he would cover his face with a cushion.
And so we went on.
To be continued until finished.......
My name is Cass Edwards, I am single, a Baby Boomer and definitely a Bitch. The reason I know I am a bitch is that I have raised three strong bitches, I get called one by my exes, and I prefer the term Bitch to Mouse, or any other term that denotes a milk weed, sop or trodden on door mat.
The 3 bitches I raised are strong, happy, resourceful and will slap, beat up on or otherwise threaten any male that comes along and blocks their way, women too. Verbally they can be brilliant, one and her Sister getting into a car park argument once with girl Queenslanders, the argument finished and over when my oldest one stared at the girls and stated firmly,
" Nice GOLD shoes "
No one that lives in Melbourne would wear gold shoes during the day. Nor handbag, belt or even accessories, gold attire best left to the doyens of " Ladies who lunch " and get mostly pissed, on expensive Chardy in the tiny village that is The Gold Coast.
I am single, now, apparently, as I am a Bitch.
I was married once in the past, engaged once and lived with someone once until his Son slashed my clothes and I left after my ex suggested that my expensive clothes might have already been slashed when I moved in with him. The first day, as I crossed the threshold under my own hefty weight, my glasses crashed down to the ground and broke. I should have seen it as a portent to doom but didn't and should have fled post haste.
Married life lasted twenty years, engagement ten and the " living with" five. I think that is long enough out of anyone's life to obey, honour and do as one is told to. Imagine how many dishes, I washed, nappies I changed, kids and adult, and am now free to be the Bitch I was always meant to be.
The meals prepared alone would stagger most women, one partner liking only meat and three veg, he stated once He would be happy to have meat, roast, steak or lamb chops, mashed potatoes, mashed pumpkin and peas and gravy for every meal for the rest of his life
He also stated I was the only person he knew that could prepare a meal from nothing within minutes. That was mainly as he would never pay housekeeping money, that was to be provided by me, whether I had a baby nursing at the breast, had the flu or was otherwise engaged. There were no excuses. He would often bang the dining table causing the teapot to fly upwards and shower us all with hot tea.
He also liked to stir his tea with a teaspoon until he threatened to wear out the bottom, dink it on the side until someone stopped him, dink, dink, dink and then touch it hot on the back of my hand causing me to jump. 365 days of the year, every year for twenty years. It was a joke that grew old very quickly.
He also liked to creep up behind me and shout boo and watch as I jumped, every time. Once watching Psycho, first time for me, he barrelled head first through the window causing me to jump up with horror, heart beating a tattoo against my chest. I hated him then. I probably did from the time he tricked me into marrying him, telling his Mother I was pregnant at 17.
He had wanted me to get rid of the baby and he brought home a friend from work that gave me little green pills that ultimately didn't work. I then took a day off work after writing to my parents in Sydney, telling them I wanted the baby but not him. I looked everywhere for my bank book and only
stopped searching when he came home to the flat we shared with my brother.
He held out my lost bank book,
" Looking for this ? " he said and I pretended to be puzzled.
" I read your letter, before you sent it. "
I opened my mouth like a gasping goldfish.
" I know what's going on " he stated.
" But it's too late I've rung my Mother and she said, looks like we are having a wedding then."
My parents arrived within the hour like the avenging angels they were and dragged me back to Sydney. My Mother offered me an abortion but I said no.
My parents also decided we would have to marry and promised to help. We were married within six weeks and I did it all by myself. I wore my Sisters dress, booked the Church, reception and one night Honeymoon.
And my parents had to give permission as I was 17. He was late to the Church and we had to drive around and around until he finally arrived having shaved off his beard and moustache. I thought he looked white, skinny and ugly. My nephew at two held on to my train and tried to pull me backwards. I should have let him.
We married in Campbelltown on the Fourth of July, so much for Independence.
His Mother leaned her head in the wedding car window and said,
" Let me be the first to call you, Mrs Cook " I felt strange hearing the name and a little bit more grown up. The reception was fun but the Honeymoon was a disaster. My white trousseau covered in grey gravel inside the pristine white suitcase. My brothers idea of a not very funny joke.
My father in law refused to come as he said his a son was a Bastard.
We didn't sleep together that night. He was drunk and slept open mouthed, snoring, while I wept over my ruined clothing. Then we both contracted gastro.
We went up to Newcastle from Sydney for one night and then drove home, blowing the clutch in Warrnambool in the old XP station wagon with it's blue and white gingham curtains in the back. We arrived home to a stone cold Melbourne and $5 to our name.
From day one he was a stranger to me. He showed off photos of his ex girlfriend to his mates and mainly ignored me. I soon found out he hated affection and would push me away roughly if I went to hug or kiss him. I didn't know how much he hated affection. He had never been brought up with such nonsense he said.
If people on the tv kissed he would cover his face with a cushion.
And so we went on.
To be continued until finished.......
