The “Never Just Right” Woman

*I usually don’t do this but there is an addendum at the end of this post clarifying certain details.

Recently a post about the “Too Much” Woman has been making its rounds on social media. It’s gaining popularity because many women relate to it, and many others want to. We’re in the age of feminism and owning our femininity. We’re experiencing a time in which women are screaming in the streets instead of be stifled in the sheets. We will be seen and heard and respected. We’re demanding our right to be validated and important. It’s an amazing thing to witness, to be a part of.


During these times, when women come together to build each other up and support one another and stick it to the man, it’s difficult to remember that we’re not only women. We’re individuals. Fuck being the mother who yells, or the daughter who forgets to call, or the wife who doesn’t cook. Fuck being the “Too Much” woman, because that’s still one category. It’s time we be ourselves.

I am “too much” and “not enough” all at the same time. I’m too hard, too soft, too hot, too cold, too big, too small. I’ll never be enough for Goldilocks, or most of you. I’ll never be “just right” because I am always wrong. I am always wrong for the wrong people and most people are the wrong people, so fuck it. I don’t want to be just right. I don’t want to be not enough, and I don’t want to be too much. Frankly I don’t care what I am to you, because I am simply me. And I’m done trying to find people who accept me. Because they’ll find me.

I am a walking tripping, talking screaming, breathing gasping contradiction. I do not fit into your mold. I do not fit into any mold, and my insides are burning through your blurred lines and searing scars on the images you hold dear.

Sometimes I get too emotional. Sometimes one word will send me into a tantrum and I’ll bawl and shake and drain every tear from my eyes into a pool you can later spit back at me as “calm down” and “cry baby” and “overreacting” and “psycho.” But it’s not too emotional for me, it’s exactly how emotional I am.

Sometimes I get too numb. Sometimes you’ll cry and beg and plead and I’ll roll my eyes and push you away and take advantage of your eagerness to please, run off into the wasteland and disappear with the ghouls. But it’s not too numb for me, it’s exactly how numb I am.

Everyone’s always worried about how I react but not what I’m reacting to.

I make bad, impulsive, rash, hurtful decisions. I don’t mean to hurt you. But I’m starting to think that if you knew the real me, it wouldn’t hurt in the first place.

When we meet, I put all of my pieces on the table. The whole ones, the broken ones, the pieces with sharp edges and those with fuzzy outsides. And you say it’s okay, you accept me, you’ll help me, you’ll save me, you’ll fix me, you love me. And you lie. And I lie when I agree, because I don’t need to be helped or saved or fixed. I am every woman who’s ever existed, who ever will exist, mashed into one body and I show them piece by piece, woman by woman, one at a time according to the circumstance. And I’m done. I’m ripping myself open to be all of me at once. That, I can agree, is probably too much.

I am the woman who spent all your money on drugs and then saved thousands of dollars to help those in need.

I am the woman who’s slept with all of her friends because we both wanted to get off and what’s consensual sex between two people other than a good time? I am the woman who won’t sleep with the first person to whistle in my direction because they don’t deserve me.

I am the woman who remains friends with her exes, not to have the opportunity to rekindle old romance but because those were some of the strongest connections I’ve ever formed and we’ve been through hell and back together. I remain friends with my exes because the friends I haven’t dated have hurt me far worse than those I have. I remain friends with my exes because they know me on a level you don’t. I remain friends with my exes because everyone dated everyone in my circle of friends. But mostly, I remain friends with my exes because I’m a grown ass woman and I want to.

There’s some more of your mold being singed away.

I buy chickens that look like they’ve been shot up with candle-holders in their butts. I wear inappropriate clothing to school functions and important meetings. I scream “SHIT!” in playgrounds, dog parks, the beach, your family reunion.

I teach my children empathy and compassion and a lust for knowledge and also let them play video games until 2am and watch R-rated movies. I teach them about penises and vaginas and then cuddle them and call them my “wittle beebs.” I let them say “fuck” but not “stupid.”

I correct your grammar and then fuck up my own.

I sulk in bed for days at a time and then disappear.

I am the woman who has no filter, who speaks openly about her sexuality and honestly about her addictions and passionately about her opinions. I won’t hide my lack of religion for your grandmother. I won’t cover up my scars for your father. I won’t pretend to be straight for your cousin. I yell out my history at the worst of times, at the wrong times, because I am so, so wrong.

I am the woman who forgives but is never forgiven.

I can’t make up my mind but know exactly what I want.

I am the woman who tattoos the best (or worst) insults on my skin because I own what you think of me. I own what I am to society. I own that my existence causes your brain to bubble and build up and rage and explode like the orgasms you aren’t having enough.

You might call me bipolar or borderline or any other mental health disorder that seems to fit my mood, but my mood is ever-changing along with myself.

I am not a “too much” woman or a “not enough” woman. I am the “never just right” woman and that’s exactly who I want to be. I want to wander into the night and scare you. I want to lay your head in my lap and soothe you. I want to keep you on your toes and I want you to want me just enough to never falter.

I can be bold and brazen and loyal and faithful and mean and kind and a turbulent kind of love. I can be whoever you want me to be, but I won’t.

I am the woman who tried too hard and then not enough and now I just want to be. Just let me be.



This post wasn’t meant to harm anyone. It was written out of anger, yes, after days of my husband being repeatedly harassed via texts and calls all to tell him how horrible I am. And I got sick of it, because, believe it or not, I don’t want him to hurt and hate seeing the pain in his eyes. But I don’t care what anyone has to say about me, so I said it myself. I’m not hiding anymore. This post is not referring to anyone in particular or any specific incident (except the tattoo I guess). “Goldilocks” is not code, it’s simply what came to mind because everything was “too” for her. I didn’t spend all of my husband’s money on drugs, but I have spent all of other people’s money on drugs in the past. I didn’t go out and sleep with anyone since I’ve been married, but I have slept with most of my friends in the past. This entire piece is simply about me and who I am, not in this moment but in my core. It could have been better. I wrote it hastily and just had to get it out. But I did, and I’m not taking it back. This is me exposing my true self to the world. And I am a writer (whether you enjoy my writing or not, I don’t care) and I have, do, and always will write intimately about my life. I apologize for any trouble or pain caused.

29 thoughts on “The “Never Just Right” Woman

  1. I was hanging on every word. It is so rare to read such an honest expression of one’s self and yet it felt so completely relatable. Sitting here, tearing up, I can only express my own disappointment in myself for allowing judgement when I know better. We are all flawed beautiful creatures and I aspire to grasp that understanding in the way you’ve shown here. It’s alright to be completely fucked up, because everyone is. I didn’t offer to be an “ear” and I’m not offering now, really (none of my business, imo), but also because I feel like you don’t seem to need that from anyone. But please know that I respect everything you’ve said here. Truly.

    (I am commenting this for longevity sake, rather than just saying it to you)

    Liked by 1 person

      • So after hearing the story behind all of this, my synopsis turned out to be spot on. You’re an emotionally manipulative, shitty person who is trying to justify her shitty behavior through very sub-par writing. You portray yourself as having this sort of duality of good and bad, but the bad is short-changed and the good over-exaggerated. You’re not a unique snowflake — you’re a predictable narcissistic junkie. You’re not the downtrodden, battered woman trying to stand up for herself — you’re the abuser.

        I say this with the utmost sincerity: get help.


        • Is this Kody again? Honestly it doesn’t matter because the “story” behind all of this is my life and a lot of my words have been taken out of context as they’re not specific to one event. Also LOVE that everyone’s go-to insult is junkie. Once a junkie, always a junkie, amirite?


      • Sometimes I am. Sometimes I’m not. Sometimes you are. Sometimes you’re not. We’re all human, we just go about it in different ways. Like the post says, I lay it all on the table whenever I meet someone. If you don’t like it you don’t have to be a part of my life. The end.


  2. I have known the family for a very long time. And I know they never once treated you second rate or an outsider. And I have met some terrible in laws. But they are not it. Whatever backlash you are receiving is probably because they loved you and now they’re faced with the real you. You stole money from your own husband. And you blame everyone for not enabling your behavior. I used to know Mike back In the day. And the day he wakes up from your hypnosis and finds himself a beautiful woman who helps him build up his credit rather then take out many credit cards or steal from his own pockets and loves the children and never abandons them. Is the day I’m sure everyone will clap. While you waste away in your own toxic filth. I agree with the above post you are not a unique snow flake you are simply a bored mentally ill child without a job and access to social media. Maybe try getting some talent, or some mental help. Cause you don’t have either and it’s not helping anyone.


    • I remember mike having many beautiful women in his life and I’m sure there is plenty to take him off your hands. Someone to treat him right and not make him make horrible sacrifices for your toxic relationship. Nobody should ever have to swallow that much pride just to be half loved or loved when the other person chooses to. Hey mike when I find out you break up I’m taking you out. You don’t need this


      • I’m not forcing him to stay. I’m not begging him to stay. I’m not threatening to leave, or to take the kids, or anything at all. I even offered to move out so he and the kids could stay in their stable home, if it came to that. Y’all seem to forget that we are MARRIED. Married people don’t just give up. We fix what’s broken. And jesus christ please stop acting like you know anything about our relationship because of one problem that went public. Because for this one thing, there are thousands more that we kept to ourselves. Good and bad.

        But if you wanna take him out, go right ahead. He’s free to do as he wishes.


    • They’re not terrible in-laws. I never said they were. I used to brag about how awesome they were. However, they’re not all perfect either. And I’m not receiving backlash from everyone. But I’ll leave it at that because I don’t have anything negative to say about most of them.

      That being said, I’m not blaming anyone for being upset with the way I handled things. I never said I was right. I impulsively escaped. I lost it. I’m in the wrong, too. I do blame everyone for ignoring every other problem in our relationship and instead focusing on only one person, one weekend, one mistake, when it takes a LOT more to get to that point.

      This entire post has been taken out of context, and that’s partially my fault for writing it so hastily but I just had to get it out. This wasn’t directed at Mike. The things I wrote are mostly not things that have happened recently. I’m simply being honest about myself, and my flaws.

      I’ve always supported Mike in every possible way. But you weren’t here to see that. So that doesn’t matter.

      It’s funny because all anyone can see is that “I stole money from my husband.” I’m not even going to try explaining that but again, you’re not in our marriage, so you don’t know all the details.

      Never said I was a unique snowflake. I don’t give a fuck what I am to you. I’ve heard it all. During our marriage I lost myself and now I’m being true to myself again. This is the person he married.

      And finally, I never abandoned my children. I went away for a weekend while they were in adequate care, I had back-up care for them, and checked in on them. They are MY children, not “the” children. I have been with them both since day one. I don’t care enough to try to convince you that I’m not a monster (maybe I am) or anything else that’s been said about me, but unless you’ve witnessed every moment I’ve spent raising my kids, do not bring them into this.

      Have a wonderful night.


      • Nobody cares what you have to say I think people just like reminding you that you’re not getting through to anyone and everyone will forget your name soon including mike. Everyone always said you were a narcissist but this is truly beyond the valley of narcissism Can’t wait till he finds a new
        Wife. So the whole world doesn’t have to read his personal life. Mental help and some creative workshops for your writing would help you. Hey mike don’t forget I’m taking you out when you break up!


        • Y’all crack me up with this whole trying to tear me down by insulting my writing thing. I don’t care if you like it. I don’t write for you.

          And obviously people care what I have to say or there wouldn’t be this much fuss about it. I’m not trying to get through to anyone. I’m speaking the truth. I know that’s rare nowadays so it might confuse you. It’s okay, I understand.

          No one will ever forget my name. IF Mike and I divorce, I’m still going to be around for the rest of my life. I am the mother of his children. But none of you care about that; about them. You pretend to when it fits your agenda of making me out to be a monster, but if you really cared you would know that they want to be in their home with their mother and father; they want to see our love. We owe it to them to try (not to stay together if we can’t make it work, but to truly try).

          Also, I haven’t written a thing about his personal life until now, and only glimpses, but he knew when he married me that I was going to write about it one day. You don’t know me and you don’t know our relationship so please stop pretending that you do.

          And I agree, we could all benefit from mental help. I hope you find some, too.


      • You know instead of wiriting this blog you could write a resume for a job so you don’t have to steal Money from your family. Thank you and have a wonderful night


        • Man you have time to kill, don’t you? I’ve been out of work for less than a month. My employment is also none of your business. Is Mike’s? Should he write a resume instead of spending all day reading countless texts attacking me? What exactly do you think you’re accomplishing here?


  3. Mike is a really hot dad. You stole his money? What did you spend it on cause I know you didn’t spend it on getting your hair done or anything. Mike really took an L with your looks


    • Yooooo true story. Big L

      Pretty sure all these excuses for running off and banging someone else are exactly that, excuses for bein a whore and wantin the same dicks uve had in u since u were like 14


      • You don’t seem to understand what I wrote. I didn’t run off and bang anyone else. I have remained faithful to my husband since we got together. This post refers to the fact that I have, in the past, had sex with most of my friends. And many of those people remain friends. But people in relationships are always so jealous that it’s almost always forbidden to be friends with a lover from your past, and I refuse to be controlled like that. Who the fuck cares what I did over a decade ago?

        Also seriously, I know y’all have better insults than talking shit about my looks. Come on now, that’s kid stuff.


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