When someone tells me I can't do something, I say "Says you," and redouble my efforts.
This is probably why I have 4 kids, 2 big dogs, 2 cats, live in the boonies, use cloth diapers, own a Prius, clip coupons, know a ton about the autism spectrum and mummies, sowed my own front lawn, bought a Wet Jet, put my "laundry room" in a closet, and refuse to wear a coat unless it's below 25 degrees (and even then, reluctantly). Don't tell me I can't do something, because I will have to prove you wrong, and it isn't always fun.
What's even worse is when I don't want to do something and people tell me I have to.
My mother used to tell me I had to eat broccoli. I would stuff it under the tablecloth. When that didn't work, I'd swallow it and then throw up. I didn't have to eat broccoli.
I didn't give in when I was 7, so why should I give in at 31?
Because if I don't do this thing, a whole bunch of people are going to hate me.
Which is dumb, because it's really none of a whole bunch of peoples' problem. But they will think that I am a mean, selfish, cold-hearted bitch. And that's pretty big, considering these people have known me forever and haven't completely written me off yet.
So really, it's a matter of deciding whether to suck it up in order to let these people keep pretending I give a hoot, or doing right by myself and my immediate family, and then having everyone else tell me how wrong I am and thinking nasty things about me forever.
There are very few things I have to do. Apparently, one of those things is making this decision.
WTF, me. #solareclipse2017
21 hours ago