They're getting to me!

I've made no secret about my being out numbered by males in my clan. Usually it's a source of bemusement, annoyance, and occasional disgust or frustration. Today? No, today it was something much darker, more horrific.

You see, they're getting to me. Like some kind of gross-boy-cooties-water-boarding, they're wearing me down.

I was gonna tell you the whole story with a bunch of justifying and pleading, but the truth of the matter is that I just can't. There's no defense ... beyond, perhaps, understanding the psychological need for developing coping mechanisms.

To the point, today I actually said the following. Don't judge, you can't know my pain.

Oh my gawd, after the last three days 

I could squat and shit on the kitchen table 

and I'd still be doing better than you!

All I will offer up in my defense is this: no child heard me and Paul Bunyan nearly peed his pants laughing at how the mighty (me) have fallen.

Maybe there is still hope for me?

Damn, guess not.