The ladies have released their anger

I was reading the other day and came across this,
I do not hasten to be angry for anger rests in the bosom of fools.
I had to laugh.  But I also must confess.
This rage has been pulsing through my veins so greatly you could say my boobs have been angry somethin' fierce.
(Loose interpretation, but you get the point).

'Slow to anger 'is not easy.
Especially if you feel you've been had by the same person in the same way more than once.
Or twice.
Or Lord have mercy, I've lost count it keeps on happening.

How then could I not get mad?

I'm an honest person.  I expect others to be equally honest with me. 
You need to tell me something?  By all means.  Please pay me the courtesy of the truth and tell me. 
You hate my stinkin' guts?  Then be a man and share your mind.  With me, that is.  Not the minions you tell one thing and then the other lies you tell only moi. 
You have intense feelings for me you pretend don't exist?  Well you better take a good look at 'em and realize it's your own Narcissism you're in love with.  So get it together and realize the things that don't bring you peace aren't from God.
And who wants stuff that's not from God?
Something tells me it will only end in tears.

It always magnifies anger within me ten fold when I feel my life is repeating itself.
It's like, didn't I already head down this street?
Did I really forget the street dead ends just past the castle?

I think one thing we so often overlook when we're angry is that we're not merely mad at the offender.  We're mad at our own gullibility in falling for the same old trick we'd already survived and freed ourselves from.  Sometimes I think I must be like poor ol' Wile E Coyote thinking this time's gonna be different and I will stop the Road Runner and have it for my very own.  And yet I always manage to be the one with an anvil landing on my head.

No wonder I got so damn crabby.

Anvil induced migraines do not go with my vintage hats.

But I don't wanna be a fool.
I wanna be slow to anger and quick to forgive.
I wanna believe the best even when all evidence points to the likelihood that Prince Charming is actually an egomaniacal-two-faced-user-abuser-extraordinaire and I'm the schmuck Jesus would talk about in a parable so as to incite what NOT to do.

But I refuse to accept the selfishness behind gestures disguised in loving acts.

I will not let this anger rest in my bountiful bosom.
I think they're just peachy on their own.