Princess and I have some fundamental differences. I really don't like seeing my insides, at least not physically, which is in part why I did in fact have the pleasure of reacquainting myself with the local ER staff because of my pesky ulcers (You should take better care of yourself, stop drinking Diet Coke, get more sleep ....). I didn't go in for the follow up endoscopy after the last episode, which I should have. But I didn't. I really don't like seeing my insides.

Princess fully enjoys viewing all physical aspects of herself. She is fascinated with her physical self. I remember when I began dating her dad he mentioned that one of her favorite things to do was view pictures of herself and decide which ones to post on Facebook. I couldn't relate to that when I remembered myself as a teenager, I preferred life under the radar. But to each her own, right? The photos she showed me from her last 'photo shoot' were of her butt poised over a blow up pool dolphin in a leopard bikini. I said, oh, those are really nice. Really, what else could I say? Best to neutralize the girl.

Princess has labeled herself as a model, poses in ridiculous fashion for any and all pictures, and by that I mean the immature puffing out of the chest and thrusting out of the backside. Oh, and positioning sideways to the camera - ALWAYS. Ok, whatever. While princess is very petite, I am more so, and while I have always thought she is quite good looking, no one else seems to share that view. I suppose I see resemblance to my husband? princess comments all the time on how beautiful she thinks I am, which I just keep at arm's length. I see her as dangerous, I guess.

princess has been fully lapping up and exploiting her dad's impetus to rescue her since her knee injury. Damn, he drove seven hours yesterday to drag her sorry ass from her dorm to get an MRI and then back again. Oh, he left a bit early because he was sure 'she'd want supper.' All for daddy daughter time. But really? Seriously?

And then my fricking ulcers strike, and guess what, I'm relying upon princesse's dad to perform the same functions for me. Bring me to the hospital, stay with me, make follow up appointment (damn I do not want to see my insides again!) and drive me home.

As we pulled into the driveway, literally as he was putting the car into park (after stopping to grab fast food for pee) pee texts him and says 'I broke the bed.'

Bed in question: a hundred year old solid oak Victorian full size bed with a headboard six feet tall, foot board five feet tall. Ornately carved, in perfect condition. Rare. Apparently, pee thought the footboard was meant for using as a seat while playing Xbox. The oak ripped apart, split the support board, left a gash in the footbaord where it landed. I was sicker to my stomach than I had been when I went to the hosptial. That bed has been precious to me for years, I let him use it believing it would be cared for.

pee took his fast food, did not apologize for ruining this heirloom and I took my ulcer and pain medication and went to sleep. pee's dad has not said a word about it, it just doesn't exist for him. I haven't said a word either, what can I say.

The next morning was when my husband affectionately shared that princess made the best of having to undergo an MRI, and quoted her as having said, "I love seeing my bones!" I was in pain and getting my sons' their breakfast. I grimaced a smile.

And then my kids missed the bus because they avoid pee to an extreme.

I lost it on the bus company. The poor woman who ansewred the phone received a whallop that wasn't hers, maybe I'll apologize, but probably not.

I don't love seeing my bones.

I don't love considering something I have been considering now that I have a gut level negative reaction to any and everything having to do with her. I have come to understand through some little ditties I haven't shared yet that she will always come first with him. The notion of competing with anyone for wife position is one I am familiar with (first marriage, it was his mom and sisters - the Vagina Gestapo). I don't believe I can do it again, I don't believe I should.

I feel fundamentally cut off from him. There was quite a backlash from my gentle husband when I put it to him that way.

I can feel it in my bones we're headed for trouble here.