Sometimes I get the feeling that I shouldn’t ever bloghop.
There are waaaaaaaaay too many female bloggers who are prettier, slimmer, richer (be it their own money or not) and happier than me. I mean, how can you NOT be happy when you look almost perfect (be it plastic surgery or not) and get everything your heart ever desires?? Bloody hell. It is doubtful if I can even own REPLICAS of the things I want…
Goddamn it.Tons of them are smarter as well, with graduate degrees and other paper qualifications under their belts. Or their husbands are bloody loaded and doting as well.
As often as I say (and total agree) that happiness is a state of mind, it is really damn HARD to get into that state of mind without a single penny on my size 12-14 frame.
Which actually makes perfect sense in this superficial society.
As strong as I am in some ways, it is really no mean feat to go against the “norm” (even if it is skewed) and beat the odds. 😡
And now I know why my mom always wanted me to study (but ironically she was the cause of my quitting school) and why she would scrutinise each boy/man I brought home. She always said if I couldn’t or wouldn’t carve a niche for myself, I should marry well. And by “well” I think she didn’t just mean emotionally.
I dream of a life seemingly unattainable, even though there are so many others living it.
I know for a fact that for every wealthy person in SG, there are at least 2 others who are barely scrapping by. It’s fortunate I’m not way down below, but I’m not even midway up the wealth ladder either. In any case, almost everyone I know are better off than me, and those who aren’t are in similar situations.
Show me a true financial sob story that isn’t a consequence of stupidity or worthless pride and maybe I will embrace my life wholeheartedly with no complaints.
Right now I’m going to activate my denial mode until I feel better. I’m just going to pretend that all those lucky girls fake their blogs. Yeah, childish. But WHATEVER. :rolls:
Very often, ignorance is bliss. But since I already know the harsh reality, I can only feign ignorance.
If daughters truly turn out like their mothers, then I’ll probably died by age 42 from a suicidal attempt fueled by depression.
P.S. Before anyone of you even thinks about leaving me comments about how lucky I am in my own way, DON’T. I’m not in the mood for counting intangible blessings this week.