I don't fit in with these people. I don't dress like them, I don't think like them, I don't care about the things they care about. I'm not a size 2. I went to college to get more than a husband. I have a job because I don't want to be a stay at home mom. And-oh most scarlet of scarlet letters- I'm divorced.
Oh yes I did! I said it- DIVORCE! Rumor around town is that they're thinking of making that word illegal. It's merest utterance within the bounds of this lovely burb ought be punishable by stoning or perhaps caning in the town square- but not in front of Talbots- that's bad for business. You see, there are no divorced people here. None. It's simply not allowed. I think they make you sign a contract when you close on your house or something. Who knows how I slipped through the cracks. . . maybe its because I grew up here? Did that little fact distract the secret police enough to let me quietly sneak in? I guess we'll never know but it looks like they've tightened things up quite a bit since then because I haven't seen another divorcee since.
If you think I'm kidding I'm not. Don't bother looking through the phone book- nobody's listed anyway including yours truly. The real skinny can be found in the school handbooks. Not unlike the parent registries at Milton, Winsor and Roxbury Latin these little books contain not only the addresses but the phone numbers and emails of some of the most "hard to get to" people in the state. And if you read very carefully, you'll find just one entry where a mommy and daddy don't share the same address- that'd be the Flyer's.
Of course those pages don't tell the truth of any of those marriages. I know for a fact quite a few of them are ridiculous shams. Just try and get both of those spouses into the same room at the same time- unless there is a social columnist with a photographer present its not gonna happen. But for all the world to see they are still Mr. and Mrs. So and So- still just as blissfully wed as ever. . .
Do I sound bitter? I think I might actually. Which is weird because I couldn't give a hoot. I don't want what they have. If I did want that crap I'd still be Mrs. Wrong! Nope, I'd rather be Ms. Happy any day. . . We already know what happened to the Stepford Wives. I'm just trying to make it through as a Stepford mommy.