Women, I’ve asked myself many times was it all worth it? Why so much pain? And, now I ask you my sisters, what would you pay for the price of freedom? I feel like Jennifer Lopez when she played in the movie, Enough. Enough is enough. I’m fed up and really I’ve had enough this time! Men think because they claim to supply all of our material needs, everything should always be lovely, but in all reality this is just the tip of the iceberg. The minute we try to discuss everyday issues with them they always respond with, “I haven’t done anything to you.” They think because they supply us with what they want us to have (material things), that everything is fine. Not as much as to what we need, but what they want us to have. This very moment I would settle for my husband, rather than all the material things that he can give. Just to feel him and actually know he’s sincere would mean more to me than all the riches in the world. I’d rather have a little with happiness than a whole lot with nothing; but, most men would rather spend money than actual quality time at home. Some of us drive the latest Mercedes cars, Cadillac trucks, but I prefer the BMW wide body. We wear the three hundred dollar stiletto heels and carry the latest high dollar purses--make-up flawless. We don’t work because our husbands supply all our needs. We are the prettiest women; almost too pretty to be real. We walk around like his fashioned Barbie. We have the big expensive house that is way too big for just the three of us. Three of us because he’s never home; he’s away on another extended business trip. When my husband is home from his extended business trips, the children and I try to stay out of his way. Sometimes it feels like we’re walking on egg shells just to keep the peace around the house. Our children are typical children, but overall I must say they are well behaved. We’ve given them the best of all things: from the nice home with all the luxuries to an exceptional education from one of the top private schools in our district. I cherish those mornings when I walk my children to the bus stop, kiss them before they depart and wave as the bus drives away in the distance. Kinda reminds me of the movie Waiting to Exhale when the mother, Bernadine, watches her children ride away to school on the bus. Taking care of the children and keeping them quiet when he’s relaxing is just half of it. I try to keep myself looking my finest. You should see me around the house some mornings looking like I’m a fashion model for some big time modeling agency. Have you ever seen anyone clean the house in designer jeans, shirt and stiletto heels? Well that would be me--always looking good for my man. Unfortunately, my work doesn’t stop in the house. Being the good wife that I am, I run all his errands. My husband has little to be responsible for because I’m always there to do the job. If I’m not at home, I’m only a phone call away-- just…in…case!!! Most of the time I feel like his volunteer personal assistant because it ain’t no pay in all the things that I do for him. I don’t have personal time because I spend every free moment working for him. The only difference, I’m not on his payroll, but there’s always a loop hole in getting what I need as well. I fit in my appointments around my morning schedule between doing errands for him. My hair and nails come first because again I must always look my best. The gym he had specially made to suit us so that he wouldn’t have to worry about other men, but it didn’t solve the problem. Now, I’ve told the story from the rich side, but there’s a flip side to this story as well. Some of us are not as fortunate as others. We don’t wear the three hundred dollar stiletto heels, nor carry the latest high dollar purses. We are not fortunate enough to drive the latest Mercedes, Cadillac’s, BMW’s, cars, trucks and vans. We drive what we can and most of the time it’s barely making it. We work because our husbands don’t make enough to support us all. We are many women of all sizes ranging from average to plus sizes. We are not the Barbie doll look-a-likes. We are the true American women. We don’t live in the expensive, hundred thousand dollar houses. Basically, we live where we can afford to. We don’t care about the gym because we simply don’t have the time and most of the time we don’t care where he is as long as he’s not bothering us. So, I said all that to say this, we are all the same in many ways! We are all connected to pain. Pain is not prejudiced toward any one individual. Pain is not color struck! Pain has no specific victim in mind. We can have the perfect figure, prettiest smile, prettiest skin complexion and pain still points us out. Pain does not care. Pain seeks out victims, sometimes grabbing men along the way. I feel the majority of pain’s victims are women! No certain color or creed--whether Black, White, Hispa
