Join the Meeting Place for Moms!
Talk to other moms, share advice, and have fun!

(minimum 6 characters)

Would you read this? Poll included.

Posted by on Jul. 28, 2009 at 6:27 PM
  • 27 Replies

 

Poll

Question: Would you read it or trash it? Explain please. No hard feelings either :)

Options:

Read it!

Maybe, I need more to base my opinion on.

No, trash for sure!


Only group members can vote in this poll.

Total Votes: 53

View Results

Okay, I'll be brief. If you came across this book and read this short excerpt would you keep going? Or trash it?

                It's not that I'm not pretty. In fact, for a woman my age I have very few wrinkles which is, if I do say myself amazing given what I've been through in my life. My eyes are large and still very bright, a blue that my husband once told me "was bluer than any ocean and just as mesmerizing." My lips are still lush, my skin smooth. My figure, well it's not really all that bad either. My breasts are still large and quite round even if they aren't as perky as I'd sometimes like. Not sagging though if I do say so myself. My stomach, well I blame that solely on the 3 children I've birthed (not to mention the many Snickers bars I absolutely HAVE to have to ward off stress). Despite those gooey, wonderful Snickers I have maintained a somewhat svelte figure. Only a small pouch that just will not go away but easily hid inside a pair of well fitting pants or a nice dress. I've always loved my legs. Shapely enough to entice but toned enough to kick ass. My long brunette hair still shines beautifully and has (thank God) no gray hairs yet.

                All in all, I make a pretty picture. A lovely middle aged (eek) woman who has 3 beautiful children, a very handsome husband on Wall Street and a wonderful townhouse that I adore. So what the hell happened?! I'm sitting here, in front of my dressing mirror trying to figure out what went wrong. It's my 40th birthday and my husband; you know that handsome guy I was telling you about just called me to say he couldn't make it. He had a "prior engagement". Guess what it was? Oh, you'll never guess... His prior engagement, on my birthday was his girlfriend - yes GIRLFRIEND's graduation from Berkeley!

                This is all news to me. That he A: has a girlfriend and B: that said girlfriend is young enough to be his daughter! So I'm sitting here, wallowing in myself pity trying to figure out what I'm going to say to my children, much less their babysitter who I had hired tonight thinking my husband was going to take me out. Perhaps I'll tell them Daddy got hit by a bus... After all, I sure as hell feel like being the driver of that bus that is hypothetically hitting my husband. Or maybe I'll just tell them he got hung up at work, that's a believable story. Richard ALWAYS works late.

                Hmm... that has me thinking. What if all of those night's he's "working late" he's really out with his little college girlfriend... It's possible. More than possible really, it's more than likely exactly what is going on. What a bastard. He didn't even give me a chance to yell at him about this whole thing.

                Biting my lip to keep from crying angry tears I recall our short conversation. I of course answered the phone when I saw it was him a bit nervously anyhow. It wouldn't be the first birthday Richard has missed so I worried he would be working for this one too.

                "Hi honey," I said. "What time you will be here, Margot is already downstairs with the kids." I continued applying my lipstick, holding the phone up to my ear with one hand and applying Lady of the Night Red on my lips.

                "Umm, listen Allison there is something I need to say." He paused for a minute; I figured working up the courage to tell me he'd be late and then in one breathe he spit it all out. "I'm not coming tonight. Or any night. I've moved on Allison and this girl, she's great and she's graduating today. Berkeley you know, real good school and I just can't miss it, it's so important to her."

                My lipstick veered across my face. At first I just stared at myself in the mirror wondering at that red slash in my face while my husband's words bounced around in my head and finally settled with a horrifying plop! "What the hell did you just say," I whispered into the phone. "You're cheating on me, Richard? Since when? And you decided you'd just tell me about it now?! On my birthday?!"

                 Richard sucked in his breathe in that irritating manner he always does when I've said something unpleasant. My mid-western roots showing I guess. "Really Allison, there is no need to get nasty. If you want to know the truth I really feel like I've been cheating on her all this time, being with you. It's not fair to her. I love her and God... I stopped loving you a long time ago. I understand it's your birthday and I'm very sorry," like hell he was, "but this could not be avoided."

                I sat in stunned silence as my husband continued to rattle on about how this woman had "changed his life" and given him a "new purpose". Bullshit. What she'd given him is a sweet little body and probably mind boggling blow jobs. Finally Richard died down, "This doesn't have to be the end of the world Allison. We can be civil about this, can't we? I love my children and I will continue to provide for them. I'll send a car over in the morning to get my things, please have them ready. Oh, and Happy Birthday."

                Next thing I knew a voice chirped in my ear... "If you'd like to make a call please hang up and dial again..." The phone went flying out of my hands against the wall. My chest heaving I continued to stare it down, threatening with my gaze to give me any more bad news. Minutes later I heard footsteps on the stairs. A knock sounded on the door, shaking me out of my reverie. Anna, my 15 year old daughter opened the door slowly. At once I wondered whether she'd heard me yelling and I felt ashamed. She stared at me as though I'd grown two heads.

                "Uh, Mom?" She walked over to me, "Why do you have lipstick on your face? Miss your mouth or something?" She pointed at my face in the mirror and I saw the proof of my husband's startling news in black and white. Or rather, Lady of the Night Red.

                Grabbing a tissue I rubbed furiously at my face, spreading the lipstick around. Tears burned my eyes and before I knew I was sitting in front of my daughter sobbing uncontrollably. "Oh Mom, its just lipstick. Here, I'll help." She dabbed the tissue in moisturizer and rubbed my skin gently, wiping away any traces of lipstick. "There," she said, "you look beautiful. You can just fix your makeup again before Dad get's here. He'll never know."

                I hung my head, willing myself to stop crying. And I did, but as I looked up Anne caught my glance at the phone and she darted her blue eyes back to mine.

                "He's not coming, is he?" She asked. Her voice seemed devoid of any emotion, much like I wished mine would be. But when I opened my mouth pain hung on every word. "No, he's not."

                "Goddamit," she screamed, startling me ever further. I didn't have a chance to tell her to watch her language before she plunged on. "Who does he think he is, huh? He's never around and he expects us all to wait around for him?" Not this time, I thought. "It's your birthday for Christ sake... what an asshole."

                I finally found my voice, just in time to admonish her for what I was thinking in the first place. "Anne, he's your father. Don't call him an asshole," even if he is one, "it's disrespectful."

                "Whatever," she said shaking her long blonde hair. "I can't believe this." She turned and stamped back out the door, slamming it of course. It's what teenagers do. Stomp their feet and slam doors. I didn't even flinch when the sound reverberated off the walls. Hell, I'm used to it. I turned back to my mirror and began assessing myself, which is where I still found myself an hour later.

 

                                I wondered what the next step really was. Do I explain to the children or should Richard and I both explain the separation to them? Is he ever coming back... that last question was more for myself than anyone even though I knew the answer. Neither of us had been happy for a long time. Richard was, or is a work-a-holic and I'm... well I'm just a washed up old woman. No, not old. Middle-aged.

I had met Richard when I was 23 years old attending UCLA for fine arts. I was an artist, or so I had convinced myself. Painting pieces that looked odd and confusing to everyone but myself. They may have all, my family I mean, been laughing behind my back about my work but I was in my glories. This was the life, I had convinced myself. College, partying, doing what you love and no parents around to boss you or make your life decisions seem ridiculous.

                That is, until I met Richard. He talked about the future, "after college" and life giving me a healthy dose of reality. Art, he said was a beautiful hobby but just that. Much like writing. Too bad though, Journalism was my second major. I listened, why I'm not sure but something about the way he spoke stole my attention and kept me interested long after the high of marijuana wore off. He was straight laced, I was a free bird. He was responsible and I killed all the plants that had the misfortune of being picked by me at the supermarket. I wanted a life away from my parents in small town Texas and Richard provided that. So I hopped on his bandwagon and rode it all the way to New York where he set up shop with a friend of his fathers, making his way up the totem pole in a law office. We were married within a year.

                Less than one year later we had Anna and Jacob and I abandoned my dream of ever making it as an artist to stay at home with my children 24/7. Richards idea of course. Within 5 years Richard had made enough money for us to be considered well off. The right investments, the right clients and very good luck. Shortly after that Emma came along. Another 5 years passed and Richard was asked to be partner. Looking back, life had always been about Richards wants, his goals and what he thought of life. Unfortunately, I loved him so much I didn't even notice he was ruining my life.

                For the last 3 years Richard's clients had been bigger, more famous and had garnered much more of his time which left very little time for us, his family. I tried to understand and not be upset with him. I even suggested going back to school to finish my degree but Richard balked at that idea. He said it wasn't fair to have 2 parents gone all the time, our children needed stability and I felt guilty for even suggesting it. Now however I am furious.

                I have spent the last 16 years with a man who has done nothing for me as a person. Sure, he gave me 3 beautiful children that I love dearly but he crushed my hopes and dreams. Or to be fair to him, he was doing "what he thought was best for our family." Now I see it as pure horse shit. He wanted a wife he could bend to his will and he saw that in me. Sweet faced, country bumpkin Allison Sanders. I had given my life to him and he'd given me the boot. I should be crying on the floor, begging God why me but instead I feel this weight come off of me. I had been living through Richard for so long I had forgotten who I really was. And I tell you, as I looked in the mirror and realized that 40 years old was just young enough to start over I was oddly thrilled. Upset, mind you that my husband is a conniving, cheating piece of garbage but excited to get back to me.

 

by on Jul. 28, 2009 at 6:27 PM
Add your quick reply below:
You must be a member to reply to this post.
Replies (1-10):
ssyotka
by on Jul. 28, 2009 at 6:38 PM

I think I might have read it.  Is it by Danielle Steel?

4boys1girl985
by on Jul. 28, 2009 at 6:38 PM

is this a book if so where can i get it  

LoveMyBugs
by on Jul. 28, 2009 at 6:40 PM

Haha, ladies. I'm writing it. It's just a piece of the story. My husband is the only one I have in the house to ask and I'm not sure he's unbiased. So I wanted a 3rd party, unbiased opinion... Thank you though. 

princessmommy32
by on Jul. 28, 2009 at 6:45 PM

My life sucks enough I don't need to read about someone else's sucky life!

swizzlefiz
by on Jul. 28, 2009 at 6:50 PM

Love it!  VERY well written.

LoveMyBugs
by on Jul. 28, 2009 at 6:50 PM

True, true. I promise it get's better though, lol. Her life, perhaps not the writing.

Quoting princessmommy32:

My life sucks enough I don't need to read about someone else's sucky life!


livewell
by on Jul. 28, 2009 at 6:57 PM

It is not my genre, but if I was faced with this an a harlequin, I'd pick this :-) Keep it up, and remember to take your time.

tinakenny
by on Jul. 28, 2009 at 7:15 PM
Quoting LoveMyBugs:

Haha, ladies. I'm writing it. It's just a piece of the story. My husband is the only one I have in the house to ask and I'm not sure he's unbiased. So I wanted a 3rd party, unbiased opinion... Thank you though. 


wow your a good writer.
kikibix
by Bronze Member on Jul. 28, 2009 at 7:24 PM

I wouldn't read it, but it's mainly because I've always hated books written in the first person.  For whatever reason I don't like that writing style. The sentences  tend to run on longer than I'd like, in more detail than what is needed. 

LoveMyBugs
by on Jul. 28, 2009 at 7:33 PM

That's funny. I don't normally like them either. I tend to find them too dramatic. But I'm doing this one because I want it to be more fun. Something more along the lines of a Meg Cabot book. She's an amazing writer and she always writes in the 1st person. She's the only writer I really like who does that.

Quoting kikibix:

I wouldn't read it, but it's mainly because I've always hated books written in the first person.  For whatever reason I don't like that writing style. The sentences  tend to run on longer than I'd like, in more detail than what is needed. 


Add your quick reply below:
You must be a member to reply to this post.
Join the Meeting Place for Moms!
Talk to other moms, share advice, and have fun!

(minimum 6 characters)