Some of us ladies have a horror of becoming something of a Stepford Wife; that squeaky clean, air-headed, submissive little house person who does not have a thought of her own beyond an imaginative dinner menu to please her lord and master.
There are women who buy into this garbage, especially the wives of busy senior corporate executives which wifely duties entail standing by good old George or Fred or whatever his name is at every major company function, the epitome of wifely splendor in every respect – coiffed, perfumed and beautifully dressed to the envy of every other lady present. Such women produce perfect buffets at twenty minutes notice for ninety without turning a hair. Personally if my husband suggested we might entertain a dozen executives for dinner at three days notice I would check myself into an asylum and hide there until the pension matured.
Contrary to mine and just about every other intelligent woman's opinion, are these ladies really leading satisfied and fulfilled existences? Can virtual enslavement really be that much fun? Most of them would lead us to think that it is, but women caught up in the corporate merry go round of competitive high achievement are brain trained to support such statements regardless of their actual feelings.
Who began this nonsense anyway? Who decided it was unacceptable to wear the same outfit to two functions consecutively? Who made it a rule that sophistication had to go hand in hand with a complete loss of humor? Why do these elegant ladies never smile / stumble / fart? Must all resemblance to the human race as a species be removed before one is considered to be special enough to entertain at boardroom level?
There are, it is believed, certain compensations for having to appear at every company social function behaving as if one's brain has been picked – most of them monetary or, appropriately enough – plastic.
To all you junior executive wives with an ambition to push Herbert up the corporate ladder as fast as possible – get a life, girls, there are more important things to worry about than whether the table is properly dressed or should Mavis be wearing more expensive shoes than the wife of who ever happens to be the head peaceut this week.
