I simply have no time.
Wash the clothes
Clean the house
Run his errands
Please him, placate him –
But satisfy myself?
That is not my role.
I make sandwiches,
Not money
I make babies,
Not business models
I must feed the children,
Have dinner by 5 o’ clock sharp
But keep it warm,
He doesn’t walk in until 6
Overlook the late nights
Accept the excuses
I am here to please,
Not to feel
The red marks on his collar,
The loose tie,
Mussed up hair?
Ignore it.
“Mother, mother!”
“Yes, Darling?”
“May I have a snack?”
My Bible is a cookbook
Not a checkbook
My Scriptures are recipes
Not tax forms
Just a pinch of spice, yes?
Enough to make it exciting,
But not too much
No one will like it
No need to be precise
Make the presentation spot on,
The taste absolutely phenomenal
No one will be the wiser
No one will know
My place is in the kitchen,
Not at the top of the corporate ladder
I am a housewife,
Not a chief executive officer
I am too weak,
Fragile and emotional
I am a porcelain doll,
Meant to be pretty and played with
“I can’t talk to you when you’re like this!
You’re too emotional!”
Perfectly curled hair,
Some make-up – but not too much
That’s fake and misleading
How can I look like a doll without
Looking like plastic?
Proper dress,
Proper shoes,
Agreeable and silent,
Only speaking when spoken to
The proper woman.
