The Real Housewives

Shattered glass covers the floor in the room of the woman’s unknown secrets. She combs her hair and plasters on the perfect smile. Shoving her thoughts, feelings, and fears into a locket that lays heavy on her chest. It does not open and she pretends it’s not there. She brushes the tears off her cheek ridden pillow and folds the covers over the bed of her insecurities. The bed is warm from her place in it but empty from any relief of sleep. She makes it anyways and pretends to not feel the bags under her eyes, or the pounding in her head. She places her feet on the floor and feels the weight of her mind rest heavy on her bones. Her knees do not buckle and her body does not shake.
Walking to the mirror of broken glass she comes face to face with a woman who is unfamiliar. Hair the color of rusted metal, once green eyes now slightly grey, and smile lines are now frowning ones. The image of her reflection sends chills down her bare arms.
She hides.
She covers.
She lies.
She believes telling herself she is okay makes her actually okay. She feels her stomach beg for a meal but mama taught her that being pretty also means being petite. Instead of a meal, she fills her mouth with cigarettes and vodka when the doors are closed and she finds no other way to numb the pain. Washing dishes in attempts to clean the sadness off of her as easily as the food. Scrubbing clothes with wishes to fade her loneliness as easily as the stains. Ironing her clothes in hopes to straighten out her every flaw. She will find one million and one ways to cope, all but acceptance.
So there she stands in the in the broken glass of her own reflection. She is cut open. Her flesh is torn. Her tears seep into her open wounds burning them apart. Still she does not scream. She convinces herself that this is the life she has made and now she must sit in the consequences. So she will do what her mother did, what her mother’s mother did, and maybe one day what her daughter will do. She picks up the glass pieces of her image and places them together as if they were never broken in the first place. She stares at herself in the repaired but broken glass once more, and tells her self these words:
You are okay.
You love your life.
Today is just one of those days.
Tomorrow will surely be better.
She opens the door and faces her two lovely children and handsome husband.
She is beautiful.
She is wonderful.
She is successful.
She is a great mother.
But when she falls asleep that night her eyes are open, her stomach is empty, tears cover the area where her head should rest, shattered glass still fallen in the room of her hidden secrets.






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