Allright, no one looking at me would confuse me with a true trophy wife. Just LOOK at me! My hair’s pulled back in a pony tail, I’m wearing old yoga pants (J.Crew circa 1999), an old t-shirt from some run I did with a friend in 2002 (thanks Rebecca Salama!), herding children dressed in head-to-toe hand-me-downs (thanks Jen Hartmann!), and driving a “pre-owned” Honda CRV. I’m hardly fit for a season of Real Housewives of Boston.
But a few times a week I FEEL like a trophy wife. I leave my children with the “staff”, go to the gym, watch the Food Network, take an uninterrupted and leisurely shower, and walk out of the gym with a glow and a smile. Hair flowing in the wind… ok, no, that’s just the TV show. My hair’s still drying, and a little frizzy. But I feel like a million bucks. And mildly guilty for being so indulgent…
Living in Boston on one income, we count our pennies. Life is expensive here, even with good jobs. BH got his PhD from a highly geeky and highly regarded local institution. And got a great job right out of grad school with other highly-regarded geeks. You’d think that it would make a difference. But alas, we penny-pinch. So the idea of spending money on a GYM MEMBERSHIP seemed a little extravagant. But the prospect of another dark cold winter drove me to NEED it. I’ll work extra Saturdays. Please, please, please, I just need a little exercise and free babysitting a few days a week!
And so we bit the bullet. And like my friends had insisted all along (yes Jenny, you were right), it really is totally worth it. I’m less cranky with the girls, my ability to push the double stroller up hills has improved, and a few times a week I get to feel like a trophy wife. It still feels a bit extravagant. But every trophy wife deserves a bit of extravagance now and then. Right?