Connect with us

З життя

My Husband Always Told Me I Wasn’t Feminine Enough—At First, He’d Just Mention It Casually: “If You …

Published

on

My husband always used to say that I wasnt quite feminine enough. At first, hed make the odd comment in passing that perhaps I should wear a bit more make-up, put on dresses, be a touch softer. But that was never who I was. Ive always been practical, straightforward, never terribly concerned with vanity. I work, I solve problems, I get on with what needs to be done. He knew that about me. I never pretended to be someone else.

As time went on, those comments became more frequent. Hed compare me to women we saw online, or to the wives of his friends, or to his colleagues. Hed say I seemed more like a mate than a wife. Id listen, sometimes wed have a spat about it and then carry on. I never thought it was anything serious; I took it as normal differences within a marriage.

The day I buried my father, though, all of that stopped seeming trivial. I was in shockcouldnt sleep, couldnt eat, every thought was fixed on how Id make it through the funeral. I put on the first black clothes I found, no makeup, barely ran a brush through my hair. I simply didnt have the strength for anything else.

Right before we left the house, my husband looked at me and remarked,
Are you really going like that? Couldnt you at least tidy yourself up a bit?

At first I didnt even understand. I told him I didnt care how I lookedId just lost my father, after all. He replied,
Yes, but people will talk. You look awfully neglected.

Right then, it felt like something heavy crushed my chest from inside.

At the wake, he was with the other mourners. Shaking hands, offering condolences, keeping a suitably sombre face. But with me, he kept his distance. He hardly embraced me. He didnt ask how I was. At one point, as we passed a mirror in the sitting room, he murmured that I ought to pull myself together a bit more, that my father wouldn’t have wanted to see me in such a state.

Once we were back home after the funeral, I asked him if that really was all hed noticed that day. Did he not see that I was falling apart? He told me not to exaggerate, that he was simply voicing his opinion, that a woman shouldnt let herself go, even in moments like that.

Ever since, Ive looked at him in a different light.

But I cant leave him.

I feel as though I cant live without him.

Click to comment

Leave a Reply

Ваша e-mail адреса не оприлюднюватиметься. Обов’язкові поля позначені *

14 − 5 =

Також цікаво:

IT14 години ago

Un furgone grigio davanti all’IKEA di Corsico, e dentro mia moglie non c’era

Io sono Matteo, ho quarantuno anni, e a Corsico tutti mi conoscono come "quello dell'idraulica", perché gestisco una piccola ditta...

CZ18 години ago

Doktorka Veselá a tajemství tělocvičny na Vinohradské

Jmenuju se Pavel Horák, je mi třicet šest a bydlím ve Žďáru nad Sázavou už osmnáct let – odmalička. Sousedku,...

HE18 години ago

מחיר השקט

מריאנה אלבז סרקה שיער באותו מספרה ברחוב דיזנגוף, בתל אביב, כבר שתים עשרה שנה, ובכל הזמן הזה למדה דבר שלא...

LT18 години ago

Pusryčiai prieš atomazgą

Rūta Šimkutė niekada nesiimdavo sprendimų skubotai. Net smulkmenose. Kai „Senukuose" išpardavime liko vienintelė stalinė lempa, ji galėjo keturiasdešimt minučių skaityti...

HU18 години ago

Huszonnégy óra Szegeden

A telefon épp hétkor csörgött meg, amikor Hanna a lánya festőkészletének cipzárját varrta össze. Az apja hívta, ami önmagában is...

BG18 години ago

Четиринадесет вечери по десет и половина, и аз не забелязах нищо

Казвам се Йордан, на седемдесет и две съм, живея в Пловдив, в блок на улица „Васил Левски", на четвъртия етаж,...

HU18 години ago

Lakást vett a lányának a Lágymányosi lakóparkban, és odatelepedett egy séf is

— Apa vagyok, és pont. Jogom van itt aludni éjszakára! Zsolt hangja végigzengett az egész lépcsőházon, úgyhogy a második emeleti...

IT20 години ago

Il martedì che l’orso rubò la voce al coniglio

Il venerdì che quasi chiuse l'angolo dei piccoli La bibliotecaria stava riordinando gli scatoloni dei libri donati quando me lo...