8 Ways I Am Like Doctor Foster

Disclaimer – Before you freak out and run away from this post, I am not really like Doctor Foster. I don’t drink 3 bottles of wine a night (I would be dead), I don’t frequent nightclubs and try and convince a new boyfriend to have sex with me in random places and I don’t stalk ex-husbands/boyfriends by standing outside of their greenhouse for a house. Nor would I do this should Mr C and I ever split up. If I ever did discover that Mr C was cheating on me and the family then he better watch out for his balls (jokes, maybe). However, I do think that all of us have a little bit of Doctor Foster inside of us. Quite frankly I would rather be Doctor Foster and not the doormat of a wife who lives over the road from Doctor Foster. Anyway, on with the post.

Doctor Foster Is Back!

Doctor Foster is back on our screens and she is still getting under my skin. She didn’t come back meek and apologetic. No, she came back angry and still hell-bent on revenge. Good for her! The ex-husband rocks up again with his younger wife and child, taunts her over text, gets their 15 year-old son drunk, insults her some more, takes their son and generally rubs her face in it. Of course she isn’t going to stand for it, is she? You see this is where Mr C and I differ. Mr C seems aghast at Doctor Foster and her actions. He thinks that she is perhaps a little bit bonkers. I suspect that this could be the case for men everywhere. Men are shrivelling at the thought of their wives/girlfriends/ partners going a little bit Doctor Foster whereas women are cheering her on and also slightly recognising ourselves in her. The idea that women might all be a bit Doctor Foster on the sly was further backed-up by a Telegraph article which basically said much the same. Here are some of the ways I might have morphed into Doctor Foster and the “slightly” crazy things that I might have done….

8 Ways I Have Been Just A Little Bonkers Like Doctor Foster

• An ex basically took me for a mug. I supported him through his teacher training even though I suspected he was shagging his way through his training. He claimed I was mad. I went snooping and found evidence that he probably had shagged the whole female cohort of his course and more. He finally confessed. One STD check for me later and I was feeling angry so I rubbed chilli all over his underpants. Threw his clothes (they were in bin bags) out of the window and sent a message to everyone in his phonebook outing him as a cheating scumbag. Hmmm, one step too far?

• When Mr C and I were first dating and I was living in Lancaster I would normally come down to visit him in Leeds. There was nothing in Lancaster so I was more than happy to escape. On one occasion I decided to surprise Mr C by not ringing him to tell him I had arrived. I knew the pub he would be in. I arrived to find a girl sat in his lap flirting with him. It was a girl who I had suspected had eyes for Mr C and I had mentioned this previously to him to be told – “as if”. To be fair to Mr C he didn’t look like he was enjoying it…that much. He probably realised my arrival was imminent! I walked to the bar ordered myself a pint (I know, classy) and headed over to Mr C and his lady friend. On seeing me they both looked petrified, Mr C more so. I coolly announced that she seemed to have fallen into my boyfriend’s lap and would she mind moving. She seemed worried that I might pour the pint on her head, as if. I then took my place in Mr C’s lap. He found it hilarious until I told him that if he ever cheated on me I would chop his balls off. Hmmm, one step too far?

• When I decided that we had to decorate one of our living room walls yellow, I didn’t just go and choose some yellow paint and slap it on. No, I researched it on the internet: Farrow and Ball, Dulux, Crown etc; mould resistant, reflective or pen resistant. I went full on Doctor Foster mad just for painting a wall. In the end we whacked up what must have been 10 paint samples, only for me to then announce that we had leave it for 2 weeks so that I could check what they looked like at different times of the day and night. A Doctor Foster step too far?

• When I married Mr C I went full on Doctor Foster mad with my table planning. I knew exactly what I wanted my tables to look like and they had to be laid out very specifically. Not a thing out of place. I wanted to ensure that they wedding organiser had it just right. So not only did I write her a step by step guide for the table but I also drew miniature diagrams. A Doctor Foster step too far?

• Haircut mad. I am going through this now! I am feeling the urge for a radical new change – a pixie crop or something different, but I know that if I do I will instantly regret it. Last time my hair was cut really short I was heavily pregnant with Oldest. I ended up looking like a short fat man. I told the hairdresser I loved it but wailed all the way home and spent the next couple of weeks saying to Mr C

 

“you don’t like it, do you? You hate it, don’t you? You think I look like Wee Jimmie Krankie, don’t you?”

On and on for weeks. I was Doctor Foster obsessed. Too far?

• PMT mad like Doctor Foster. Where you find yourself bemoaning at everything and everyone. If they don’t eat all of the dinner that you lovingly spent 45 minutes and 2 seconds (not that I was counting) preparing then you aren’t happy, even if deep down you know that it tastes like sh*t. You declare that you are going on strike and from now on it will be take-away. You ignore the fact that everyone looks delighted.  Also, when you have spent the whole day cleaning and tidying the house up and everyone comes home, traipsing their muddy shoes through the house and don’t notice how lovely, clean and tidy the house is. You feel like hiding their shoes……in the oven. When Mr C asks if your period is on its way because you seem a bit snappy, “whaaaaaaat, how dare you! I’m not snappy, I’m a ray of sunshine” before storming off upstairs to your bedroom to eat chocolate, watch trashy TV and punch the hot water bottle. Step too far?

• Cleaning mad. When you decide that you are going to tidy everyone’s drawers but instead of folding everything neatly and being done with it you go all Marie Kondo over it. Your drawers now have clothes that are rolled and neatly filed away. It’s like a work of art. You are so proud of it that you take photos and send it to your husband at work. Two weeks later and the clothes in all the drawers have unravelled, the clothes are a mess and you are silently seething. You debate throwing all of the clothes away and becoming a nudist family. A step too far?

• When you find an 11 year-old bullying your three year-old in soft play you go Doctor Foster mad and you tell the child that if they even look at your child again then they will be in big trouble and if they are caught bullying other children then they will find out how it feels to be bullied. You tell them,

“I will find you”.

Less Doctor Foster that time and more Liam Neeson from Taken.

I feel much better now that I have shared the ways I have been mad like Doctor Foster. It’s the same for everyone though, isn’t it? We are all a little bit mad sometimes, aren’t we? Share your Doctor Foster ways with me…..I won’t tell. Promise.