Back in the late 80's I did some time as a Stepford Wife in Coppell, Texas. I know, I can scarcely believe it either. While I readily admit it was a fine life, I found myself somewhat hindered by the fact I was neither simpleminded nor built like Olive Oil, a necessity in order to wear the wardrobe staple of the time, those dreadful 'Units'.
"Stepford Wife" had such a bad connotation that I almost preferred "Bimbo Housewife", the moniker my then husband sometimes used. Yes, he was an odd little man with an even odder sense of humor, but thats another story. I actually seemed to fit that label better, physically anyway. I had blond hair and curves back then and my hair was styled like every other lady whose hair was shoulder length. We were apparently bad hair lemmings and very much ruled by trends, no matter how tacky and ridiculous we looked. Either things have really changed or I dont give a rat's derriere about trends anymore; probably the later. In the 80's practically every hair-do had an odd crunched and sprayed nest-like wad on the top and the sides stood out from one's head by at least 4 inches. I look in horror at those pictures today. We wore quite a bit of eye make-up too. Why, we were pretty much all tarted up within minutes of rolling out of bed. My, how swiftly the tides turn.
Our neighborhood was lovely with all new homes. We were young and upwardly mobile and Coppell was almost new, itself! We had one new grocery store at that time, Minyards, where you could generally count on running into neighbors but it was hard to tell them apart from any distance because they all wore the same clothes and pretty much had that same unfortunate hair style.
Most of our kids were young because Coppell appealed to young families. Neighborhoods were filled with family activities like block parties and cook-outs. Saturday mornings started early with kids squealing and the sound of Big Wheels roaring down the sidewalk just begging for some toes to run over. Every month the ladies in our subdivision would take turns hostessing a luncheon. It was a group effort and lots of fun. I still use several recipes from those luncheons. In fact, Im still in contact with a few of the best neighbors a person could ever hope for. Yes, our neighborhood was a lot like Wisteria Lane would have been in the 80's sans murders and mayhem. We lunched, went to The Coppell Women's Club and the Coppell Book Review. It was a full life built around our kids, church, and social functions.
I made some lifelong friends while living there. They were not simpleminded and they didn't wear "Units" either. One of them, Julia was a perfect mom, though. She could do it all! Why, Julia would mow the yard, sweep her sidewalks and clean her gutters fully made-up while wearing a dress and heels. To this day I believe she was every husband's fantasy, too. She even won the Mrs. New York City title a couple of years before and her personality even surpassed her beauty. She could be both bawdy and demure and she got along famously with everyone. They had a beautiful spotless house full of beautiful daughters. Julia was a hard act to follow so I never even tried.
We entertained quite a bit while living there which was difficult for me because I wasn't much of a cook. My husband used to say "you know dinner is ready when the smoke alarm goes off". Hubby didn't encourage me to cook because he was still emotionally recovering from a batch of poisoned pancakes I made him the year before. He liked to say he was a couple of bites short from making me a very wealthy woman (humph). Thankfully, Julia's husband, Gus was an award winning chef and restaurateur. He was kind and generous enough to save me on several occasions by whipping up wonderful exotic meals for our dinner parties. Why, one time he even brought over Czechoslovakian china, crystal and this traditional liquor, Slivovitz. He said it was mandatory for a pre-dinner toast to insure good health and happiness or perhaps so you wouldn't remember the evening at all. Yes, it was the closest thing lethal we ever served, tasting much like I imagine jet fuel would. All of our guests loved it when Gus did the cooking.
I tried my best to fit in and be a proper wife but its highly possible that part of my failure was due to the fact I never quite learned how to bite my tongue. Why, It seemed like I had perpetual bruises on my legs from being kicked under tables. Goodness knows I tried and even took "How to be a Great Wife" class at our Baptist church. Can you imagine me ever doing such a thing? The class was held by this frumpy looking middle aged woman who swore to us all that her husband was the happiest man alive, even though he wasn't there to support her claim. I wasn't sure I wanted to know her secrets but figured on account it was being held in the Baptist church, it couldn't be too risque. Boy howdie was I wrong! This woman proceeded to tell us that men have but 2 basic needs and if you take care of those needs, you too will have a happy hubby! Are you kidding me? She advised all of us to make sure we had something in the oven that smelled great every time our masters... um I mean husbands came home from a hard day's work. Not only were we supposed to womp up a big smelly dinner but she told us to meet them at the door in nothing but an apron! I had to wonder where my toddlers were going to be whilst I was busy womping and cavorting around the house in the apron. I never went back to the second day of class. Maybe thats why we divorced.
I came to realize the 80's weren't a great time to be a housewife; at least to my way of thinking. Im guessing all of the chauvinistic sexpectations were a reaction to the 70's but I surely dont know. It just wasn't for me. It suited me just fine being single for 10 years until a new decade rolled around and I fit in better.
My Fleeting Life as a Stepford Wife
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
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