She’s the same height as me though she weighs less. Is she a size 8? Yes, that sounds about right.
Every day she wears makeup, just not very much. Foundation, of course. A hint of lipstick. And blush. Of course she wears blush.
I’m not exactly sure how you’d describe her style, as I myself am so terribly backward in that area. Maybe some specific examples will work? She wears sweaters coordinated to a shirt beneath. Dark pants. Sensible shoes and knee-high tights. Often she wears dresses and nude panty hose. She is polished, subdued, unobtrusive. Her hair is curled with an iron. It is never frizzy.
Does she ever need to push her glasses up her nose? Never.
This girl studied hard in school and became a teacher. She married young, taught before her first child was born, then intended to return straightaway to work. And why wouldn’t she? It’s what her own mother did, and no harm at all came to this girl. But something happened. Holding her infant daughter made the decision to be poor and at home rather than less-poor and at work an easy one. Just for a year, the girl said, but the year stretched to two then three then four.
That was acceptable even though it was not preferred. The girl carried on raising the child and then children even as it became apparent that her marriage would not make it. Did she waver in her devotion even once? No, never. She kept faith that God would provide in all ways, until the perfect moment arrived and in one quick stroke she severed the union. Cleanly, with no muss.
She made out well in the divorce, the girl did. Her ex ended up paying all her expenses, as that was his obligation. Because she is nothing if not responsible, she immediately put her children into the care of another and began working a real job. She possesses a wonderful eduction; why waste it by sitting at home making pennies, squandering the talents God so generously gave her?
So she taught, every day donning her sensible yet attractive outfits and modest makeup. She provided young people the tools with which to write, or perhaps she guided them in the various chemical compounds that make up the world. At the end of each day she fetched her children from a room full of similar little children and took them home alone.
Somehow in this life of teaching and fetching she met a man. Not online, because the online world is scary and unpredictable. She knew she could only trust men from the “real” world, so she scoured places like work, church and perhaps even the grocery story — discreetly though! — for her next husband. She remembered throughout that dating had only one goal and that no decent woman would give up the prize before reaching it.
With intelligence and focus she landed a new provider with less fuss than you might imagine. And then began the next (and best) phase of her life, wherein she raised her children (and perhaps his children, or their children), worked and flourished under the protection of her new husband, the husband she ought to have had all along.
She is happy to be wife, mother and teacher. She is content. She is quiet.
We might be friends, this lovely woman and I. Some days I wish I could be more like her, because she’s the one my parents love.
Too bad she doesn’t exist.
My parents think I’m somebody I’m not. I have to hide everything about myself to keep them from feeling disappointed. Some days I think, “Fuck it.” Better to be happy and be yourself than spend your life miserable as somebody else. I completely admire you.
She sounds boring, your lovely woman. You and she would have little to talk about aside from parenting. Once your kids were grown, you’d have no common ground at all.
And you know what else? She’d be jealous of you. She’d look at your mussed hair and wondered what it was like to have sex in the morning. Or with the lights on. Because her ever-so-proper husband(s) would only do it at night, in the missionary position. Maybe she’s never even had an orgasm. But she’d know from the smile on your face that you were having great sex, and a lot of it. And maybe she wouldn’t be as content as she looks.
Revolutionary Road?
The notion of perfection is ridiculous. We all know this. But isn’t it funny how sometimes knowing that doesn’t matter?
I call the saga of my outlaws and me “God, I Love My Fucking Family.” Is it divorce that does this, or at least puts it into overdrive? My road with my relatives has never been smooth, but it really got ugly when I failed to properly play the game I arrived to so late.
There’s not much comfort to be taken in the fact that the things we value the most about ourselves are often the things our families don’t know how to deal with, but it’s true. All you can do is value those things a little more to make up the difference, I guess – and know you’re not alone.
I agree with Simon. Perfection is ridiculous and so over rated it’s not even funny. Be who you were born to be and sometimes you just have to walk away from those people who can’t except that. I’m sorry though. It’s all so hard at times and sometimes life shouldn’t be so damn hard.
But this perfect daughter would have had to have perfect parents ;o)
One of my favorite quotes:
“Well behaved women do not make history.”
This is your best post.
It may be the fever but it made me cry (2 tears 1 from each eye).
I am thinking Ian Banks but this is tighter better every perfect word.
She sounds kind of boring to me. Not someone I’d like to hang out with.
Beautifully written piece, aag. I have chills. And, I feel for you.
xo~Sadie
Really boring. What would she talk about? What would she do once the kids were old enough to not need her?
Though I admit the first part of the post made me cringe – I think I’m on that road. I hope I’m not that boring! Also no kids, so we shall see I suppse.
Lovely, poignant, I think we all think we are not as good as our parents would have liked, perhaps we are wrong.
None of us are who are parents planned for us to be or our life didn’t go quite as planned or we made some choices that they didn’t care for, but will your love for your offspring change when they aren’t what you planned or their life goes a little wonky or they make a choice you can’t understand?
But would she love herself?
You are who you are meant to be, not what someone else wants you to be.
you know like if they turned out to be republican…
Sounds a lot like one sister of mine, or two, or three. You are much more interesting!
That is so beautifully written. The suspense held for me. I knew something bad was going to come out in the end, but I wasn’t expecting that, and it fits so perfectly.
I’m sorry it rings so true.
You know, of course, it’s their problem, their failing, not yours.
You are quite wonderful, and it’s quite likely this alternate woman would be incapable of writing the way you do, and it would certainly be impossible for her to live and love the way you do.
No, there is NO way this “perfect woman” and you would have been friends. You don’t share any of the same values.
Worse, she keeps trying to impress her parents, wearing those perfect clothes and fulfilling stereotypical social roles.
Why? Because she has never felt she performed up to their standards.
Meanwhile, why did things not work out with her first husband? Their expectations and desires were obviously not in accord.
The second guy seems better, but her issues haven’t revealed themselves yet. She looks the perfect part. She plays the perfect roll. But inside she’s miserable and might not even realize it, having spent so much of her life putting on the pretty face.
She used to want to scream.
She used to want to do shocking things.
She used to fantasize about being more wild in the bedroom at least.
Now she’s just worn out.
She’s worn down.
When one parent is lost from cancer, she feels more pressure to take care of the other. When that one goes, she realizes she’s spent her entire life trying to please them yet never feeling she did.
Her accomplishments, wonderful by any objective measure, do nothing to help her feel satisfaction.
Her model children have so many issues, having felt they could never aspire to be as perfect as their flawless mother.
They look great, perfectly manicured, get great grades, overly active in extra-curricular activities, get into good colleges.
Fortunately one survives the suicide attempt.
The other is such an alcoholic they never notice their siblings issues–the estrangement lasts through their adulthoods.
One has a marriage, but it’s a sham, beautiful enough for the bridal magazines but only lasts just over a dozen months. Everyone is polite enough to not “do the math” over the two grandchildren (or that the second one looks nothing like, well, you know).
Sadly our perfect woman doesn’t have the emotional strength to deal with much of any of this.
Her second husband lasted quite a while, but she’ll never remarry.
Her regrets are so great she can’t keep track of them all.
Fortunately her therapist has records going back decades.
I can’t begin to put myself in your shoes because I have the best life ever…
Seriously if I were to murder a sibling for the change in their pocket my father would have bragged about what a tough bastard I was and my mother would still be insisting that I was a “good kid”…
Still, if your biggest problem is you can’t garner the approval of these selfish priggish people… That would mean your life is pretty good too…
Just saying….