I’m standing in front of the window at Victoria’s Secret, trying my hardest to visualize myself in their featured “frock.” It’s a black and fuchsia “cat suit,” open everywhere but the feet––I have to cover my mouth to keep from laughing.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m all for sexy clothes––to a limit––and my husband could be “Vicky’s” number one fan! But after nine hours at the office, three loads of laundry, dinner for five, and a brisk walk with the dog––sweats and a t-shirt have the most appeal.
And as I’m near comatose on the couch, the husband will walk in after work and announce “God, your Mother has no energy anymore.”
Marriage can take it out of you, all right! I have the fondest memories of our first year of “commitment.” We couldn’t keep our hands off each other. Every look, every touch, every little whisper was a promise of our future together, and we made promises even the saints couldn’t keep. He would help set the table, and I would wake at the crack of dawn to make his breakfast. We were happy campers. Then, the aliens came.
There is a child behind every wrinkle on my face and every night he wanted sex and I was too tired. They invaded our once sane home and destroyed our love life. They have held me captive for 20 years. Even my husband is incapable of rescuing me.
And how I ache to be rescued!
What’s important now, is what I want––because at this point in life––if I’m not happy, ain’t nobody gonna be!
And I want it all!
I want to be awakened, gently, in my bedroom with cinnamon flavored coffee served on a white wicker tray. Delicate slices of French toast topped with whipped cream would sit on a bone china plate. A pink linen napkin holding my silverware would be briskly opened and placed on my lap and all the while, the husband and children would smother me with praise and kisses.
With the flick of my wrist, a tiny bell would signal the completion of the meal, and, instantly, I would be escorted to my bath. After a long, relaxing soak, warm towels would wrap me further into relaxation, as I planned for my daily adventure. The maid would ask my dinner “wishes,” and after reciting a lengthy menu, I would be off to the mall!
Evening finds me in a Dior gown, sipping an ice cold Cosmopolitan––perfectly posed on the chaise waiting for “him” to come home. Of course, he finds me irresistible, and we make mad, passionate love for hours, right there in the living room—with no aliens invading. (Now that’s a fantasy!) The evening ends with “him” carrying me to the bedroom and placing me on the white coverlet amid hundreds of pink rose petals.
OK––I’m back. Amazing what the window at “Vicky’s” can do to a gal! So…I purchase a sexy little number and plan an evening of romance.
The house is semi-clean, and the aliens are out for the evening. I strike a pose on the sofa and wait for the husband to arrive. After what seems like a week, he comes in. He stares at me, long and hard, walks over and kisses me lightly on the forehead.
“What’s for dinner, hun? I’m starving.”
The aliens have brainwashed my husband.
