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Confessions of a Trophy Wife

My Triumph Over Adversity.

By Maria Dolan

PAGE 2OF 2 <<PREVIOUS

When Brad moved out the next day I had a hunch that all was not right in my personal paradise.

I didn't hear from Brad for a week and his dinners were getting really cold.

I found Diane's number and got up the nerve to call him. He said that he couldn't talk because he had lost his voice but I was not to be denied I had to say what was on my mind.

I told him that I was nothing without him and he agreed but he still was not coming home.

I was shattered. I spent endless days just wandering around the house in my bathrobe weeping and and letting my roots show until until one day I caught sight of myself in the mirror. Everything became clear.

I had let myself get old.

I'd always exercised because Brad hated any percentage of body fat and I went to the hairdresser's every day with a frosting once a week. I had weekly facials and monthly peels but still I had failed.

I took a long hard look in the mirror. I saw the crows feet around my eyes and the pouch under my chin. My body was slender but the flesh was not as tight and wrinkles had appeared.

Confronted with this grotesque apparition I was energized and very fortunate to have a plastic surgeon who could handle emergencies

While recovering, I memorized jokes and caught up on my soaps all the things I didn't have time for when I was with Brad because I was busy shopping.

At the end of six weeks I looked as I did 20 years before only a little more surprised.

Brad started to call me once he got his voice back because he wanted to some of his things back, like some personal papers, his clothes and the house, but I ignored his calls and his lawyers calls until I was ready for the unveiling.

Once the bruises healed I invited Brad over. I ordered in a sumptuous feast and dreamed of our romantic reunion, but Brad asked if he could get it to take-out as as Diane was waiting out front in the car.

I fumed as I stuffed the food in plastic containers. Enough" I swore to myself. Enough.

I did nothing to deserve this. I was well groomed every day of my life. I watched the staff keep the house clean and made witty comments at cocktail parties. I looked terrific in a sportscar and I knew all the lyrics to the Friends theme song what more could a man want?

Brad wanted someone younger.

I called his ex-wife to tell him what he had done to me but instead of commiserating she just laughed hysterically.( I don't understand why women won't help each other. She was an old skank any way but she didn't have to be so cold). I tried to call his children but they wouldn't even return my calls.

I was desperate and alone. I needed some time for quiet contemplation so I went for a bikini wax. While she ripped the hair out I looked deep within.

All this time I thought looking beautiful and being able to wear just about anything was enough--it wasn't. I probed further and realized that I had devoted so much time to Brad and my personal appearance that I had left no time for improving my inner self. I was... empty.

Oh, well I didn't want to dwell on what I couldn't change so I paid the aesthetician and bought some gum.

I sued Brad for everything I could but I ended up with a piddly allowance that wouldn't even keep me in facial peels.

I knew that I would have to find a way to survive so, I cruised the nightspots but the crowds were so young that I felt completely out of place.

I started going to lounge bars out by the airport but still love and security alluded me. The men arriving at the airport were all married which wasn't a problem, the problem was they were looking for someone even younger than me. Out of desperation I finally ended up attending lawn bowling tournaments.

That was the smartest thing I ever did.

I met an adorable man Edward and we were married three weeks after we met. It was a lovely service. Edward looks so handsome as they wheeled him down the aisle and I looked a thousand times better than his great-granddaughter who was my bridesmaid.

Edward and I are blissfully happy. I visit him every other week in the home and let him feel my new breasts.

As I write this, I am watching the sunset from the deck of my beach house. I sometimes I look back on my journey. The 12 weeks of suffering and misery I realize how much I've grown. I watch the news and when I see wars in foreign countries and famine. I feel empathy and depending on whether or not I'm wearing mascara I sometimes share a tear for my brothers and sisters.

I wouldn't wish those weeks of misery on anybody except Brad, Diane and his ex-wife.

I have triumphed.

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