Living A Life You Can Only Dream Of

I followed the path of least resistance, graduated with a 2.1 GPA in the laughable degree in Social Services. I found a job that paid more than the city did, pizza waitress. There I was, working six to midnight making half of what my siblings were earning. At this stage, with over sixty thousand in student debt, my only way out was to get married.

The man in question is a friend of my older brother's, thirty. His demands included four children, before I turned thirty. He wanted them out of the house by the time he turned sixty. Working was low on the list, making babies, staying home like his mother, was his vision.

With limited prospects, not able to move out from under my parents, my mother looked me in the eye, you've got it in you, get married and get those babies going. The wedding was semi formal, the honeymoon a cruise in the Caribbean, the counting started, I came home pregnant.

Four babies later, I turned thirty. My husband is an old fashioned Dad, you take care of them. He's a lot of help with suggestions, but not much help with the children. That's what sisters are for. But he is a good provider. We don't have many misunderstandings, I do my stuff, he does his. It's easy deciding, no man wants to come home to a wife in curlers, kids screaming, and the porkchops burned. No wife wants a husband unemployed on the couch.

I like my life, I like the whole women's world, believe me, pizza waitress is not my calling.