Let me tell you about my husband’s friend’s new trophy wife. My husband and I had a chance this weekend to get together with several friends we have not seen in quite awhile. Two years ago, our friend Bill left his wife, my friend Stacy, because he was having an affair with a much younger woman whom he met at an office picnic. A picnic he attended with his wife, mind you. She was the beautiful, blonde, fresh out of college daughter of one of the company executives. Anyway, Bill announced that he found his soul mate and asked Stacy for a divorce. She happily obliged. Stacy got the house, the dog and the Mercedes. Bill got the Shore house and a big boobed, skinny, blonde haired new trophy wife named Jill. Yes, their names really go rhyme. By all means, you may vomit now. No wait – they married at the drive-thru chapel in Vegas – OK, now you may vomit.
The husbands gush over Bill’s hot trophy wife and how Bill always seems to have a smile on his face. Of course, she looks perfect and doesn’t want kids. She is a 47 year old man’s wet dream. At 25 years old, she has never worked a day in her life. She went right from her rich daddy’s house to her rich sugar daddy’s house.
This weekend was our first opportunity to meet the trophy wife. Bill and Jill showed up at the house like two giddy high school kids. As my friends and I chased our kids around the pool and served food and drinks, Jill positioned herself like a princess in a lounge chair wearing a Brazilian cut bikini and high heels. Come on! Really? At a family barbeque? All day, we listened to our “hospitable” husbands: “Jill, can I get you a cold drink?” “Isn’t Jill nice?” “Honey, Jill wants her salad with no dressing.” “Jill is really into yoga. She must be really flexible?” Give me a break!
So today I choose to be a Trophy Wife too. In the trophy wife funny costume, I will be the beautiful princess that the men drool over and the women envy. I will be tall, blond and have big, perky breasts. Jill’s hair color and boobs aren’t real so it won’t matter if I fake it too. I will be the sexual fantasy of every man. I will put on a blonde bombshell wig and stuff my shirt until it nearly bursts. I’ll practice the fine skills of hair flipping and sensual yet air-headed gazes. When walking around I will swivel my hips and hold my shoulders back and chest out. Let’s also not forget about the Trophy Wife laugh – you know the one. Later on, My husband will flaunt me around and show me off to his friends as if I’m a brand new car or a new set of clubs and I won’t even find it demeaning because I’m putting my brains away for the day.
This should be a good day. As for Bill, he seems happy so to each their own. As for Jill, as long as she continues to get her allowance from Bill she will remain the perfect trophy wife. For me however, being a Trophy wife is a joke that is best displayed in the form of a costume.