Confessions of a Trophy Wife
Posted: Saturday, March 31, 2007
by Mary Fagan
Motherwise
I call myself as a trophy wife. Top shelf.
I’ve worked hard to get to this point in my life. I don’t make excuses: I made choices.
Years planning, manicuring, managing and manipulating have earned me the “good life." We all want success and riches. So few have the tenacity to make it happen like I do.
I’ve planned every detail of my “good life" starting with my home, with bikes and balls splayed all over the front yard and occasional screams escaping from whichever injured party is hosting the latest temper tantrum; the luxury only afforded in roomy cars like vans, sporting the remains of last night’s drive through ground into the upholstery; the pool, with so many water toys (that I hyperventilated blowing up) that there‘s no room for me; and the dog’s bits of chew toy and the gory proof that cats are instinctive hunters decorating the front entryway. Martha Stewart, try not to be jealous.
A good manicure sounds like vain primping, but trust me, hitting the front and back lawns on the same weekend is killer, especially before my sugar daddy sprung for a self-propelled job.
Why do people assume trophy wives are obsessed with money? I am tight. It takes more than a dollar and a dream to cover the cost of kids’ clothes, food, lessons, braces, and the obligatory purchases for the perennial school fundraisers. Men love a woman with flexibility. I can stretch a dollar to cover more territory than James Bond on special assignment. And honey, nobody does a garage sale better.
I enjoy the fine arts, especially re-gifting. It takes creativity to match up what you don‘t need to someone who won‘t suspect. I am also crafty - no one ever noticed that I pawned wedding gifts to buy groceries during the lean years. Just don’t expect your salad in matching bowls. That candy dish was pretty to look at but totally useless. Nothing lasted longer than a couple of hours in it anyway.
I can’t help it if the years take their toll on women who just let things go. Not me. I’m at the top of my game, with the endurance required to be a fit parent. With my “experience," and a strong bond with my children, I know just when to shake things up, and when not to stir.
Trophy wives have long been associated with a tendency for manipulation. I prefer to think of it as recognizing and rewarding potential. It’s like mining. A good gold digger can spot the real thing even when it‘s hidden in the rough. Your mate might start out as stubborn as a pack mule, but if you work it right (or use a good swift kick), you can get them eating out of your hand. With any luck, you’ll both feel like you’ve struck it rich, now, and for many years to come.
Obviously, I live a charmed life. I melt when my man reminds me, as he often has throughout our marriage, the first for both of us, “You really are quite a prize."
Some say that it’s unfair for a trophy wife like me to reap the benefits of another woman’s hard work. I agree.
I’ve said a prayer of thanksgiving for my mother-in-law every day for the past 27 years.
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Top-level comments on this article: (2 total)Got quite a chuckle out of this, you hottie. (wolf whistle in the background). I was married to your complete opposite for 20 years. I hope "he" does appreciate what he got.Glad you got a chuckle. Thanks for the stars and the chuckle that I got reading your comment. I love the wolf whistle. (If truth be told, it's been a few years since I have gotten one. Back in the day, I would have given you a dirty look. Now it would be one of "appreciation.")
What the heck is this? A VAN -- trophy wives do not drive vans.
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