This particular post was about money hungry wives who are only married to military members for the benefits. Intrigued by the concept (because, you know, our servicemen and women make SO much money), I made the poor decision to start reading the comments.
All 250+ of them.
At first, most of them complained about ex-wives or old girlfriends. Then one of them mentioned the cammie purses – someone didn’t know what those were and someone posted a picture of a bag that looked exactly like one of Cindy’s earliest bags. Here the conversation turned to the purses and how dumb they were.
This instigated an entire b-*$^ fest about women and purses. I remember thinking, “Hello! MOST women like purses! This isn’t something that only military wives enjoy!”
And then I kept reading.
Apparently, cammie purses are a sure sign of a gold digger and disrespect.
I mean, seriously?
Of all the things to complain about in life, you feel the need to complain that someone bought a bag made out of old, torn up cammies?
You know what I did when I bought my first cammie bag for $10 instead of spending $40 at Walmart? I took the $30 bucks I saved and sent flowers to my mother. You know what I did when I saved my second $30 by buying one of “those” bags for my sister in law? I sent her flowers, too. You know what else? It’s none of your dang business what kind of bag I carry! And, unless you’re PETA, the material it’s made with doesn’t have anything to do with you.
My husband, the service member, didn’t have an issue with it, so why does it concern you?
Then, people complained about the Coach bags some wives carry.
Dangit, I have one of those, too.
It was a gift from my boss one year at Christmas for having the most sales in the least amount of time. People judged the “cheap, fat wives” who shop at Walmart. Fudge- I really enjoy spending HALF of what most people do on their groceries and I’m clearly no size zero. People ripped into the wives who join “mommy and me groups.” Holy friggin cow, I must be a monster.
Then, the worst thing happened.
Someone started smack-talking about the wives who wear yoga pants and t-shirts everywhere.
This is the exact moment my newborn baby spit up on my favorite t-shirt, while simultaneously having a blowout of epic proportions all over my favorite yoga pants.
About that time, I clicked the unlike button on the page and closed my laptop.
