Season 2 Episode 4 Hubby Home, Weight Loss & Burnout

This video is about Season 2 Episode 4 Hubby Home, Weight Loss & Burnout

Hi y’all, welcome to Still Stella – Living Life Sarcastically.

This podcast comes with a trigger warning: Extreme sarcasm and mild emotional violence.

Today we’re talking about hubby being home, weight loss, burnout, and why at this point I either need a tropical vacation or witness protection.

And first of all…

Welcome back.

It’s been a minute.

Welcome to a brand-new season of sarcasm, laughs, and the kind of slightly unhinged life observations that probably should’ve stayed inside my head…

…but lucky for y’all, they didn’t.

New season.

Same old sarcasm.

Did y’all miss me?

Because I’m just gonna go ahead and assume yes.

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:02

Welcome to Living Life Sarcastically. Hi y'all. Welcome to Still Stella Living Life Sarcastically. This podcast comes with a trigger warning, extreme sarcasm, and mild emotional violence. Today we're talking about Hubby Bee at Home, Weight Loss, Burnout, and why at this point I either need a tropical vacation or witness protection. And first of all, welcome back. It has been a minute. Welcome to a brand new season of sarcasm, laughs, and the kind of slightly unhinged life observations that probably should have just stayed inside my head. But lucky for y'all they didn't. New season? Same old sarcasm. Did y'all miss me? Because I'm just gonna go ahead and assume the answer's yes. It helps my self esteem, and frankly, we're all out here taking validation wherever we can get it. Sometimes stepping away is necessary. We spend so much time trying to take care of everybody and everything, and eventually your brain just clocks out and says, Girl, good luck, I'm unavailable. And honestly, we can't do it all. I know society keeps selling women this fantasy that we're supposed to have the perfect career, the perfect marriage, the perfect body, a clean house, a balanced diet, glowing skin, and somehow still have the energy to answer text with those emoji things. Who is doing all that? Because it feels like propaganda written by somebody who's never had a hot flash while trying to answer emails and remember why they walked into the kitchen. Speaking of life changes, hubby being home more has definitely been an adjustment. And before anybody gets all dramatic, no we're doing good, there isn't one of those we're growing apart stories. If anything, it's the opposite. Turns out I actually like the man I married, which honestly feels like a solid win in today's economy. But let me tell you something. When you've spent years operating on your own routines, your own space, your own weird little habits, having another person suddenly there all the time is really different. Not bad, just different. We fully committed to nothing absolutely productive, which is honestly an art form at this point, and suddenly I feel observed like a zoo animal. He's just existing, being sweet, living his life, and I'm over here wondering why are you standing so close while I'm aggressively avoiding responsibility? Then there's me checking in on him every ten minutes. You okay? You sure? You need anything? You still breathing? By the tenth time, I'm sure he's wondering if I'm concerned for his well being or just making sure he hasn't escaped. It's love, baby. Annoyin', smotherin', mildly suspicious love. And while we're adjusting to all that, work is over here, choosing violence, or taking time off doesn't actually give you a break. It just creates future problems for exhausted you to clean up later. You spend one week relaxing, pretending to be a peaceful person with boundaries, then you come back to two weeks of workplace chaos stacked up like emotional jenga. No matter how well you prepare before leaving, work always greets you like oh good, you're restin. Here's twelve fresh disasters. And let me tell you, my attention span is not helping. At this point, my focus lasts about as long as cheap mascara in August. I'll sit down to finish one task, then somehow end up reorganizing a junk drawer, googling the symptoms of perimenopause, and emotionally spiraling because I saw an old photo where my jawline still existed. And somehow that leads me to weight loss, which Lord let me tell you, talk about humbling. Nothing will test your emotional stability quite like trying to lose weight after fifty. When you're younger, you skip bread for three days and you accidentally lose seven pounds. Now you can survive on grilled chicken, sadness, and sparkling water for a month and your body responds with Best I can do is inflammation. And don't even get me started on mirrors or random reflections in store windows. Why does every accidental reflection look like security footage from a crime scene? You'll be feeling cute too. Hair done, good outfit, confidence thriving. Then bam. Target's front window catches you from some cursed angle, and suddenly it's well that can't be right. And blessed hubby sweet little lion heart. He tells me I'm beautiful exactly as I am, which is sweet. And legally I'm pretty sure he's required to say that. But honestly, weight and self esteem get tangled up in ways we don't always realize. We're really hard on ourselves. The pounds, the gray hairs, my wrinkles. Like H is somehow proof we're failing instead of proof we survive some stuff. Truth is we earned every bit of this version of ourselves. Every wrinkle has a story. Every gray hair survives somebody's nonsense. And every extra pound is probably emotional damage with a snack attachment. That's not failure. That's evidence. We're still here and that matters. Society expects women our age to quietly fade into the background, to shrink, to soften, to disappear. Not me. I'm way too loud for all that. If I'm on a age, I'm on a age like a warning label. Visible, slight unapologetic, slightly aggressive. This season of life changes you. At some point you stop trying to become who everybody expected you to be, and instead you become somebody you actually like. You get softer with yourself, more forgiving, more peaceful, and a way less interested in proving yourself to people who weren't clapping for you anyway. And if that ain't growth, I don't know what is. Now let's talk menopause because apparently surviving the Latch Key generation wasn't enough. Now our reward is brain fog, mystery rage, low motivation, anxiety, random crying, and occasionally opening the refrigerator, you're forgetting why we're even there. We are out here fighting for our lives while pretending we're fine. Because Gen X got raised to walk off emotional damage like it was a scraped knee. But I'm thankful people are talking about it more. Because we are absolutely not doing this alone, and thank goodness for that. Remote work helps though. At least when the burnout and hot flag flashes, tag teamy, I could suffer privately. I can lower the thermostat, point a fan directly at my face, grab an emergency ice pack, and dramatically collapse into my office chair like the southern woman I am. Honestly, I've said it before, but I'll say it again. All work places should have menopausal accommodations. A cold room, emergency chocolate, weighted blankets, a quiet range corner, and tiny preschool nap mats under every desk. I will say it again, we need that nap act. This country would heal if everybody got a twenty mandatory twenty minute afternoon nap. Now yes, I know some folks would abuse it and sleep straight through to quitting time. Frankly, I support their journey. Because sometimes doing nothing is exactly what saves your sanity. At this age, protecting your peace is cardio. And speaking of peace, if I even suspect somebody's secretly rootin' against me, maybe I'll lovin'ly remove myself from your life and go take a nap. We do not have time for fake energy. Protect your peace, drink your water, block your weird cousin if necessary, and remember, or maybe I already said this and forgot because brain fog is driving this bus. Marry your lobster, drink the rum, and hog the friends who don't secretly root against you. Thank y'all for listening. If you enjoyed today's chaos, follow or subscribe so you don't miss next week's episode, and share it with all your real ones. Thank you for listening to Della Living Life Sarcastically.