Women with no children have no responsibility and no right to complain...(Apparently)

So this week saw me being pilloried by a friend for daring to have a squeaky moan about "life" since as a woman with no children, there is absolutely nothing for me to groan about. "Why are you whinging when you have no responsibility!" she barked out loud in response to my text sent a few hours before; after a rather gruelling day at work where I had been the honourable recipient of the office bully's snide remarks. Feeling irrepressibly low and dejected, the text sent had a renouncing theme of: "I am simply fed up".
I waited patiently for a reassuring response brimming with obligatory positive quotes such as "Don't worry. You are stronger than you think" or "Ignore the bully and speak to your union" , etc type replies were far fetched it seems.The candy quoted vitriol I received in response was shocking to say the least. For a fleeting moment the work place bully's scathing remarks seemed welcoming.

My friend bellowed from the mountain top about my perfect life with no bills and responsibilities(I had recently moved in with family to help my sick parents. Daddy is recovering from a stroke while I drive Mama to her many hospital appointments on my days off work.). The six page text compared my "free" life as a nullipara to hers as a single mother juggling work, childcare, and other family issues. "Put yourself in my shoes and you will be thankful for your life with  no-one to look after. You have no bills and don't pay rents. I am sure if you scale back on your high standard of life you will do well"; were some of the wise words of advice I got. I tried to remember the last time I went shopping in keeping up with my "high standard of life" and had no recollection as it had been so long...oh wait a second; actually it was January this year when I decided to shop online at House of Fraser. It was kind of like the After Sales Sales shopping were only size 16 dresses and size 3 shoes were left. I turned to look at my straggly mane in the mirror courtesy of some poor Brazilian woman and thanks to my sister who had bought and posted this as a belated birthday gift. It was now two months overdue with my natural curly black  Afro hair roots quite discernible at the temple creating a stark contrast to the long silky extensions.

The phone rings and I instantly recognise the number as T-Mobile Customer services who have been hounding me for a mere £17.61 outstanding phone bill from the last billing cycle just two weeks ago. I promptly ignore their calls which works out to be about two every 60minutes starting from 9.30am to 8pm. As I finished reading the text, I trip over a red briefcase next to the kitchen table overflowing with letters from creditors. My memory is jolted once more to the outstanding tuition fees for my Masters course, credit card bills amassed during my London hey days as the belle of the town who couldn't be seen dead in the same outfit twice and most recently, the outstanding bills from my previous garden flat which I have to still pay off given that the obligatory 12months contracts with certain companies and peoples were not fulfilled as my tenancy was suddenly short lived due to family crises. Try telling that to terms and agreement of contracts drawn.

I proceeded to walk to the living room window still in disbelief at my friend's cruel response wondering how to reply that without provoking a fight. My gaze falls on the only evidence of my seemingly "high standard of Life"...my red Mercedes Benz car with it's equally matching plush red seats. She stood proud and beautiful in the driveway, glistening in the late Autumn sun as it caught on her polished bonnet. The day before I had almost been fleeced dry at the garage where she had had her customary service checks and MOT. For months now I had been contemplating selling her for a more Eco friendly car.
My phone goes off again...this time it's a reminder flashing on my screen "Rents and Family Kitty". I had to do a bank deposit for rents and contribute to the family's rainy day account.
I take out my phone and text " Sorry? I have responsibilities. They may not talk back at me but they are there. Never mind".
I make a mental note of never turning to that friend again for reassurance and decide to contact HR for their policy on work place bullying.