Confessions of a Submissive Wife

CHAPTER 2

A Perfect day

2006

When I was a little girl, being a good wife was drilled into me. I tell you, it was everywhere, even Marry Me Barbie had a submission button. The TV's were saturated with commercials of all sorts of women serving their Alpha male husbands. Whether it was breakfast in bed or a huge tableside mountain man breakfast. I was so fascinated by the idea of being a good wife. I couldn't wait to grow up and be a wife, just like the woman in the Morning Shine breakfast commercials. She was the best wife ever.

She never strayed from her daily routine. She would get the kids ready for school, fixed them breakfast, all while balancing $9\hour checkbook. The smiles filled the room as they all gathered around the breakfast table, eating and laughing, and then suddenly she'd drifted away dreaming of her perfect day.

The shine from the sun sparkled in her eyes, the smile on her face hinted at the satisfaction of her inner peace as her head shifted to the left and she slipped away into her perfect fantasy.

Silly giggles flooded about throughout the spa while she savored her massage, while getting a manicure and pedicure and sipping on some complimentary champagne.

She'd then snap back to reality, realizing it was all a dream and her smile gradually winded away as the reverberations of boisterous kids running around the house filled the room. She'd then rush to get them off to the school bus stop, nearly missing the bus. Suddenly, she'd hastily dash back into the house and rush up the stairs to help her husband shave his face. Soon after helping him pick out his same navy blue suit, he then scurries to leave for work. A modest, but yet satisfying, kiss on the cheek put a little smirk back on her face and as soon as his car pulls out from the driveway, her sparkle returns and all that happened in 2 minutes and 30 seconds. "Now that's what I called superwoman."

Every day, I dreamt of having a perfect winter wedding. I spent most of my allowance on bridal magazines. I would cut out the most gorgeous winter white photos to put in my scrap book. All the white and sky blues colors looked like a wedding made in heaven, one that God himself would even attend. The look of winter without the effects of the cold made it so beautiful since I hated snow. Most kids my age loved the snow but not me, I dreaded every winter. Since I had no brothers, my sister and I would have to shovel the front so no one would sue my daddy. Although my dad did most of the work, I still hated it. Watching the snowfall was always the best part and looking at naked trees filled with snow was also beautiful. But the fact still remained, I absolutely hated the cold, snowy winter. I enjoyed looking out my window at the mountains of snow. This made having a winter wedding in June perfect.

For weeks, I nagged my mom and dad to show me pictures of their wedding but they never did for some strange reason.

One day, they were away from the house for hours, leaving me and my sister, Kenya, home alone. She was my older sister but she was the irresponsible one. My mom would say, "Kenya, keep an eye on your sister," and as soon as she walked out the front door, my dad would whisper to me, "Baby girl, keep your eyes on your sister, make sure she doesn't get into no trouble and no boys in my house while I'm gone." It's no secret that I was my daddy's favorite; I would do anything for my dad. Spying on my big sister was a bonus because she was always mean to me anyhow. But that day I had my own agenda, I disobeyed my dad for the first time ever in my life. I wanted to find their wedding album, I searched and I searched looking all over their room, I even looked behind the toilet where my mother kept her secret stash of liquor she hid from my dad. She was forced to find an even better hiding place because Kenya found it and would pour some for her and her friends all the time. She got away with it more than my parents knew. I think she had more of a drinking problem than my mom. I learned my lesson about snitching on her, it was a painful lesson but nevertheless I learned it. There is a phrase where I come from called, "Snitches get stitches," I learned firsthand that to be true.