Picture: Supplied
Picture: Supplied

Woman unleashes on fiancé on Instagram

Dear darling fiancé,

I love you (I wear your undies to bed, say no more) but lately you have forgotten who I am and what I do.

I am your partner of 12 years, your confidant, best friend and most importantly the mother of your children but more recently, without you saying it, I can tell I'm just the baby bum wiper, the mundane de-facto roomie and the worn-out wash cloth that desperately needs a revamp.

I hear you loud and clear - no one deserves a whole six hours at a day spa more than us mums, but really you need some aftershave because your attitude, or lack of, stinks.

You walk in the door after a 12-hour work day, worn out, weary and tired.

You eat your dinner in peace, pat yourself with your fluffy towel that I dried and slip so quietly into bed with the comfort of your fresh new sheets that I washed, annoyingly dried and frustratingly applied to the king bed just a few hours prior.

You awoke in the morning, gave a good stretch, kissed my forehead, showered and got dressed ready to face the day ahead.

You wore your new shorts I bought you that were a nightmare to purchase with two kids in tow, but I did it anyway because I know you needed them and would appreciate them.

Where is the f***ing recognition?

I love you and that's why I give myself so selflessly, day in day out but my god, where is the f***ing recognition?

Beautiful dinner, babe. Nice hair, hun. I see you have gone back blonde.

Thanks for getting the stain out of my white T-shirt. These new flannelette sheets are heaven. Hey, thanks for getting these shorts.

Nope - none of it.

Not one thanks given or appreciation shown. No recognition today, yesterday or probably tomorrow until you read this. You work so hard. I work hard too. I dare say harder then you. I don't enjoy housework but I do it. I loathe mundane cooking these days but it keeps us well and going.

I can't possibly scrape any more skiddies out of undies, but I do it because that's toilet training. I feel like I am the queen of Groundhog Day, but although not joyous all the time, I do it but please, to save the dragon from spitting fire pretend you loved dinner ... thank me for keeping the kids alive and doing the dreaded dinner, bath, bed solo.

Because that's all we want. That's all I want.


This article originally appeared on Kidspot and has been republished here with permission.

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