one prozac a day, husbands mia

she hated everything..

she looked around the roIMG_2378om and took note of the stains on her linen weave sofa, and the synthetic oriental rug.  when did they move to long island anyway?  once upon a time, not too long ago, she lived in a walk up apartment.  at the time she thought she hated that, too. the truth was she hated everything that was hers until it wasn’t; similar to the way she felt about her sanity.  when she lived on the upper east side in the studio apartment with a mini fridge, and an accounting job, she wished she could be more like the “artsy girls” downtown– even though she talked about how irresponsible they were and how silly it was that they didn’t have “real jobs”.  “who signs up to be a hostess anyway?”, her and her work friends would say over brunch at a sports bar, where they hoped to meet their future husbands.

this was before she met him at a conference in new haven.  he was so stable and charming; someone she could raise a nice family with.  she loved the way he wore his phone on the outside of his khaki pants from the gap.  he was like a 63 year old in the body of a 29 year old frat boy turned tax attorney.  perfection.  she hated him now, too.

it was good until it wasn’t.  it was perfect until she realized “she” wasn’t a real person, but a made up jumble of traits and interests.  she went to therapy.  she discovered her fears and debilitating insecurities.  she started taking 40mg of prozac a day.  she decided to take up watercolor and join the pta. he took up golf.  their oldest just enrolled at the university of delaware.  success.

-inspired by “1985”, Bowling for Soup

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