Dang

I had a long conversation with a friend about a mutual friend of ours who is going through one hell of a time. This mutual friend is in a very destructive relationship with her husband. They have three kids and she finds herself in a situation where she is emotionally at her lowest point and is finding it difficult to do what she needs to do - save her herself and her kids and leave her asshole husband. I don't know the dude too well, but I have seen this jerk in action. He is a piece of work, a lazy no-job having piece of poop. He's an arrogant, illiterate, racist, sexist psychopath rat bastard who wants only to skateboard all day long and tell her what to do and how to do it while she is the sole bread winner. Asshole does not have a job AND he does zero housework or support the family in any way. I could understand if he was a stay at home dad and took care of the kids and home, y'know, got the kids ready for school, went grocery shopping, anything. This moron does NOTHING. My friend is just worn down and is struggling to muster the strength to leave him. She doesn't think she can do it, but my friend has assured her that all she has to do is give the sign and she'll have a swarm of supportive people there to help her get away. God this pisses me off to no end. I seriously want to kick his ass.

This whole thing reminds me of my best friend in high school, B. B was an awesome person, kind, considerate but she had an asshole boyfriend, P. He was an only child from a rich family who was overly indulged, she came from a modest background and had 5 or 6 younger siblings. He was such a jerk to her, frequently calling her names and degrading her. He was an emotional manipulator to the nth degree and put her through hell. It didn't take long for things to get physical. I first saw her bruises during a fire drill and I asked her about it, she said it was nothing and that he didn't mean it. Yeah, right. I didn't really the guy that much before then, but now he was really on my shit list. She assured me it wouldn't happen again, she wouldn't let it. No surprise, when more bruises mysteriously showed up a couple of weeks later, I knew I had to do something. I still don't know if it was the smartest thing I ever did, but one day after school in one of the side hallways of the bandroom, I pulled P aside and had a little talk with him. In short, I told him he better not hit her again or else. I probably never said two words to him before that day but I let him know in the most menacing and threatening persona I could muster. One of the few times being taller and bigger than most of my peers paid off. He never touched her again and I spent the rest of the year making sure whenever I saw him I gave him my most evilest eye. I'm convinced that there is an especially dark and miserable hole in hell reserved for people like that.

Shit like this makes me feel like a jerk whining about my weight when people I care about are going through a heckuva lot more than gaining 10 lbs of water weight. I feel like an idiot and I wanted to post this (even though I could not have) to remind myself that I don't have it so bad, in fact, I'm pretty blessed. Nothing like a glimpse into someone else's life to give you a little perspective.