Lesson #15: Wife is (Not) a Four-Letter Word
Growing up I had certain preconceived notions of what it meant to be married, in general, and more specifically, what it meant to be a wife. Just the mere mention of the word conjured up Suburbia, endless loads of laundry, the handling of raw meat, and being cheated on. This was in part due to my childhood, as well as various media models like The Brady Bunch or Bewitched (she had to use her witchy powers to get housework done, which I thought was a desirable skill to cultivate). The flip side were shows like Charlie's Angels or M*A*S*H*, where single women kicked ass and often wore incredible shoes doing it. After I witnessed what happened to my mother, abandoned with two small children and no source of income, I knew I was going to be a Career Woman with a capital C. No time for vacuuming and grocery shopping; I was studying for the MCAT and grinding my way through decades of medical training.
Then came shows like Sex And The City and Ally McBeal, where single women are the norm; they lead fabulous lives wearing fabulous clothes while delivering compelling closing arguments. Only they're miserable. They spend season after season in search of the holy grail: a husband and a normal, suburban(ish) life.
And so I followed in my TV heroines' footsteps. At the 11th hour I long to go to Whole Foods, cook things like chicken, do the dishes, fold laundry. Do all those wife-like duties. My conception of what marriage is has changed over time; I no longer see it as a sacrifice, as a jail sentence, a loss of who you truly are to be what someone else thinks you should be. It's more of a partnership. Running a small business. And, yeah, that probably means I will end up doing more of those domestic things I used to loathe. Since my boyfriend is a surgeon, that 'probably' is more of a 'definitely' but that's fine with me. Today I folded laundry, did the dishes, cleaned the bathroom, and actually didn't expect anything in return; it's just something I wanted to do to make his life easier. And I know he would do the same. While I loved sorting my exes socks, I gradually grew resentful of the fact that I was the only one doing anything of the kind. In the end, it's about doing the little things for someone you care about and being appreciated for them rather than expected to do them. That's the difference between a WIFE (Wash, Iron,F---, Etc - an acronym popularized by my male residency buddies) and a wife. Which doesn't seem so bad after all.