A few weeks ago we went to a party at a friend’s house. I didn’t know many of the people there, but one person stood out from all the rest. You all know the woman I’m talking about.
Bleach blonde, thin, 40-something, fake boobs, wedge heels, strapless black top, and short shorts. She’s attractive, but in a contrived sort of way. She knows people (men) are watching her, and that’s just the way she likes it. She looked like a middle-aged Barbie.
I didn’t know this woman, but I became fascinated watching the effect she had on the people around her. Men’s eyes followed her. Women kept looking back at her. Even I found myself watching her, and I couldn’t for the life of me figure out exactly what it was about her that sparked such interest.
She made a comment to one of the men in our party that she was disappointed so-and-so had just left, and hoped he didn’t think she was with whats-his-name, because she wasn’t. Within ten minutes she was making the rounds, and within another couple of hours was seen leaving with that-guy-over-there.
I’m not being catty, just curious. I don’t know her, didn’t talk to her, and my first impression of her could be way off the mark. She could be a microbiologist with a Nobel prize in her back pocket for all I know.
To be honest, maybe I’ve even been that woman in the past, and I was merely recognizing something familiar.
Women like to look nice. We spend a huge amount of time and money searching for things to make ourselves look attractive. But do we sometimes go overboard and make our appearance–and our motives for looking attractive–the main focus of our lives?
Especially if we reach a certain age and find ourselves unmarried, do we sell ourselves short and become desperately “flashy” in an attempt to attract attention?
To me, there seemed something sad about her. There was nothing unique or genuine about her. She looked like your stereotypical Dallas woman. Did she know who she was? Was her only objective in life to snag a man?
And why did I care?
I’m not married, but I do live with someone. This is the first relationship I’ve had that gives me the freedom I never had when I was married. And by freedom, I mean the freedom to BE myself and do the things that make me happy. I’m not saying you can’t have that freedom in a marriage. For whatever reason, I never felt I had as much as I do now.
Maybe it was because of being so busy raising two children. That’s a choice I would never undo, and that particular loss of freedom had many more rewards than sacrifices.
In all honesty, it was more a matter of playing second fiddle to someone else. Their outside interests came first. I let myself become swallowed up in my husband’s life and path, and never took the time to develop my own.
No blame to him. It was my own responsibility and I let myself down.
Now I’m older and wiser. Younger women seem to be much better at making their own lives before marriage and not giving up so much of their own dreams and goals for their husbands or families. I do believe you can have it all, but it may not be easy.
We don’t have to sell ourselves short. I don’t think the woman at the party gave herself enough credit. Rather than being happy in her own skin, she seemed to be playing the role of what she expected others wanted. I’ve been there. It never works. You wind up making poor choices and getting used.
Perhaps I’m way off base about the woman at the party. Maybe she has a thriving life, full of activities and endeavors that keep her fulfilled and satisfied. Maybe she’s philosophical and has interesting ideas. Maybe she isn’t as desperate as she seemed that night.
Maybe she was just lonely. For whatever reason, we certainly all noticed.