“What’re you doing, love?” I asked the wife as she waddled into the living room, arms piled high with clothes. “Sorting out my wardrobe.” She replied. “I’m throwing these away, they’re all either too big or too small.” My money’s on small.
“Don’t you try and butter me up.”, hissed the missus while standing in the doorway. “Sorry, I was just trying to help.” She spat, “If you really want to help, you’ll find another fucking way to get me unstuck.”
My girlfriend wanted to try “doctor and patient” roleplay. … But things went awry from the start when I said: “Hello! I’m your dietitian.”
I’m not saying my wife’s a fat, greedy bitch, but she’s just cleaned the cooker with two fucking slices of bread.