When she’s menopausing, she
- calls the baby a bitch. (Except the self-proclaimed English-expert-back-in-some-godawful-tiny-town-school pronounces it as beesh, and it’s not because she’s trying to water down her expletive.)
- calls her daughter a lan hai (lazy vagina in Cantonese). And every other fanciable profanity that comes to her beautiful mind.
- calls her husband the most useless, undesirable man on earth. And the woman who married him must be even worse than that.
- tells her husband she doesn’t look forward to spending another day of her life with him. He just takes it all resignedly like a physically abused child.
- tells her daughter she regretted having her. Something the daughter will never ever forget, though she can’t remember what brought her to say it.
- wails that today is the worst day of her life. Every week.
- puts people down like it’s fashion going out of style. Every other day.
- swears she wants to die sooner so she can leave her miserable life behind. Every once a month, twice if she’s lost in mahjong recently.
- physically abuses any inanimate object within her reach. No comparison to the more devastating damage she causes by opening her mouth.
- vows to never leave a single cent to her children after her death, who she thinks does not deserve any of her money, and neither her husband, who she refers to as someone who sucks all her ‘blood’ (read: money). We’re obviously killing her slowly but surely by getting on her fragile nerves – we’re desperate to lay our grubby greedy hands on her dragon gold.
- brags about how much she does for the family and how much she has sacrificed while everybody else from this house does not do any sort of sacrifice or house chores or monetary contribution. You can tell she is the most noble woman in this house the way she goes on and on with nothing but praises for herself.
- drones on and on about every great injustice the family in the house has ever done her the past decade in a mostly successful attempt to bring negative energy to the house, which she promptly blames on her husband’s junkyard of a room because she believes in feng shui and that clutter in a room cannot bring money into the house or some equally idiotic notion like that.
Blog readers, meet Emm the menopausal Ma’am.