I suck at being a woman.

That's how I feel, anyway.

My dinner went something like this last night.

After several weeks taking a sabbatical from cooking, I decided to try again by cooking roast. My grandmother makes the most AMAZING roast in the world. We had it this weekend while I was visiting her, so I got the recipe from her and tried it out.

Well, it didn't go well. Not at all.
First of all, since my grandmother didn't tell me to cut up the roast, I didn't. Maybe I should have. Also, she actually cooks it in a pot on the stove with water. She adds potatoes 30 minutes before it's done. Well, it was 7:30 p.m. and still not done. So then we decided to cut it up. I was so incredibly frustrated, because it didn't look anything like my grandmother's, and I felt like a failure.

So, what does a woman who feels like a failure do when her hormones are out of control?

She has a meltdown, of course.

So here I am, melting down while trying to cut potatoes. Full out ugly cry as if I were cutting onions instead of cutting potatoes. I almost cut my finger off, and so Wesley proceeds to take the knife from me. I'm still sobbing, of course, because it just feels like I fail as a woman.

sidenote:

[Failures:
1) I can't cook. I really can't. I think I just need to admit that to myself and everyone else. I have tried, and I have failed countless times. It is not natural, nor is it cute for me. It is stress waiting to happen.
2) I can't get pregnant without the help of fertility medication. Women are designed to conceive. What is wrong with this picture?
3) I am not dainty in the slightest. PCOS doesn't allow me to be. I'm overweight and I have too much testosterone. No chance of being femininely dainty or anything like that.
4) I really have no idea how to piece an outfit together. Usually when I look cute, it's because Wesley has stepped in and provided counsel.]

Anyway, so Wesley takes the knife from me, and I'm sobbing, telling him that I'm such a failure while listing the above reasons, and adding that I can't even cut potatoes, and Wesley looks at me and says dead seriously and rather spirited:

"I would rather have a wife with all of her extremities than one who can peel potatoes!"

So then, with tears streaming down my face, I proceed to break into a side-splitting laugh. He starts laughing as well. It was all quite comical, amidst my meltdown.

All that to say, the roast sucked, and the potatoes were in too long and they literally disintegrated into tiny pieces.

Baking is really my thing. But I can't lose weight if I bake all the time.

***
On my way to my office, I saw a girl who looked to be about 7.5 months pregnant.
She was puffing away on a cigarette.
I wanted to strangle her. Does she not realize how much of a precious gift a baby is?

***

I'm so ready for a vacation. Just 8 more days. I can do this.