I finished the magazine article that I was asked to write... feels good. I'm happy with it - now I wait to see what "nips and tucks" are made by the editor.
Below is a sneak peak at my unedited - well not counting my edits - version. Later when the final comes out I will post that too, so as to compare :)
Enjoy!!
Modern woman; I think I am one – and I’m sure that many of you reading this think that you are too. But are we really?
Where does this idea of the modern woman come from? Society of course. We listen to our family and friends, we watch shows on TV and we read articles in magazines; all of which portray what the “modern” woman should be. The idea of the modern woman really hasn’t changed that much over the years. If you watch Mad Men you see modern women of the 1960’s venturing out into the work force, seeking independence from men – all while trying to land the right one to marry so they can settle down and not work anymore. Flash forward to Sex in the City in the 2000’s and you see Carrie Bradshaw expressing her modern womanhood. Working and writing about the trials and tribulations of a single girl, living and dating in New York City. Through all her modern ways and desires… she still wants to find the right man and so do her friends.
What of the woman who doesn’t want to get married or have children? It seems that even in 2012, she’s an oddity. Women are allowed to be modern, just as long as they still fit within the idea of the societal norm.
In my twenties the idea of getting married and having children wasn’t on my mind, at least not in the sense of, “Oh how complete my life will be to have a husband and then a baby.” I felt quite the opposite of that and I endeavoured to put all serious thoughts of marriage and having babies on hold until I was thirty. Surely by thirty I would have my career set and would have found a serious and committed relationship to settle into.
Before I knew it, the impossible thirty arrived. Impossible because when you’re twenty, thirty seems very far away – old even. When you actually are thirty (now I’m almost thirty-five) you see just how ridiculous that is! For one thing, thirty is not old and for another I wouldn’t go back to being twenty for anything, except maybe for my tighter abs… Anyways, I feel much more comfortable in my skin at thirty-four, than I did at twenty-four. I digress.
At thirty it seemed that all my friends were getting married and I felt like Bridget Jones in the scene from the first movie where she goes to dinner at her friends place only to find that she is the only single woman there. I began to feel like I was part of a dying breed. I tried to get into the whole weddings are fun thing – But I just couldn’t do it… I hate wedding planning and showers. I hate all the formalities and protocol of wedding do’s and don’ts. Most of all hate all I hate those silly games that are played at showers – they make me want to run for the hills. To this day, if I am invited to a shower I do my damndest to get out of it. Invite me if you must, just know that I have something else to do that day… Best of luck though!! And don’t worry, I will still get you that blender or diaper genie thing you have on your registry.
Now that you know that I hate wedding pomp and circumstance you may be surprised to know that I did it all myself. I’m a hypocrite. Well not quite… I did refuse a shower and I turned my nose to having a receiving line. Nonetheless I caved. I caved to my well meaning friends and family who asked why I didn’t want to get married or have kids. I caved to the images that the media fills the airwaves and magazines with – happy families and married couples. I even ditched my commitment phobic, late night booty call “boyfriend.” I had purpose!
In no time I hooked my fish and I turned a flicker of a flame into a full blown house on fire. In less than two years we were married because we loved each other and we had potential. Everything would be great! But, it wasn’t and in less than two years we separated.
I sent him packing and I sat in the house - the house that I had bought on my own, and cried. How stupid I had been. All the signs had been there before we were married but I refused to acknowledge them. My ex talked a good game but never had any follow through. He talked about wanting to get a better job to help support us but it was me working full-time with an extra job on the side trying to keep it all afloat. He sat home playing video games, working a part-time job and building debt that I didn’t even know about until it was too late.
My stress level went through the roof and we argued constantly but I kept hoping that it would get better. Until then I could hold it all together because that’s what women do. I could work two jobs, keep the house, keep the man and have kids. I plugged ahead, until one day I just couldn’t do it anymore. Enough was enough and my life flashed before my eyes. There I was, stressed out with bills mounting, barefoot, pregnant and trapped with a man who loved playing games and spending money without regard for anyone else.
It was right then and there that my marriage ended.
What was mine before marriage became “ours” and what was my ex’s (including his hidden debt) also became “ours.” Every step I made to make things right and not lose everything resulted in his gain and my loss. I was forced to sell the house - it was the “matrimonial home.” It was the one thing that made me feel that I had earned something, that I could do things on my own. I felt like a failure but I moved forward - It had to be done.
Never to be one to stay negative for too long I began to think of the positives. While I had lost a lot, I did still gain back myself and I discovered what it was that I really wanted all along from a relationship - a partner. Someone who would stand by me through thick and thin, washing dishes, health scares, financial woes, and episodes of
Coronation Street
.
Three years on, I have found my partner and though he may not openly admit it, he enjoys watching
Coronation Street
. He puts a good face on about it anyways, just like I do when we watch football. That’s what it’s about though - give and take. He is his own man and I am free to be as modern a woman as I want to be.
If I had known that I would live happily ever after as the childless, common-law wife of a separated man with two kids (teenage girls no less) I would have done it long ago.
I am a modern woman – hear me roar!
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