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Nothing Imeldific about it, but yes the room next to our bedroom is entirely for my collection of shoes. I just love stilettos! They make my legs look longer and leaner. I can’t count how many Louboutins, Ferragamos, and Manolo Blahniks I own. Some of them, I haven’t even worn yet.
My husband spoils me, alright. But we have a deal: I don’t ask where he goes and I tell him where I am all the time. No problem, really. I get to keep 5 credit cards in exchange. I’m a high-maintenance, low-impact wife. I keep my days creatively busy at the spa, with about 3 bodyguards outside on lean days. Their names all end in y, that’s all I know. Maybe, their names are Tenny, Jemmy, and Lenny.
Funny. My husband wants me all dolled up when he needs to bring me along to those blah and duh dinners with his fellow members of the House of Representatives. Yet, something always happens back home when a man so much as kept his eyes on me for 10 seconds. Geez, that means I’m going to have another Fanny session!
Fanny is my stylist, by the way. Oh, yes, I have one all for myself! Thanks to my husband who keeps Fanny on a juicy payroll. Saves a lot, really, since this glorious gay saves me from going to the hospital – which my dear husband most definitely doesn’t want me to do.
You see, Fanny is super talented. And busy with me, too, since I have a twice-weekly soiree with the other Congressional wives. I always manage to escape, though, the company of these absolutely ridiculous and totally obese women just before they start planning the monthly medical and dental missions, and gift-giving projects in yet another devastated area. ‘Devastated’ is a word I always hear at these meetings, apart from personal trainer and DI (that’s Dance Instructor, for you).
A Fanny session goes like this: he applies around three to four shades of waterproof foundation on parts of my face and body that have come to take on some kind of color other than my complexion. Not that my skin is multi-toned. It’s really not that fair. Must be because my maternal great grandmother is Puerto Rican. I guess, it just takes this much number of shades to expertly hide the many hues of purple. The Shu Uemura Limited Edition REBIRTH Spring Mode Makeup Collection line is the best. Fanny swears by it.
Last night, was really bad.
My husband wanted again one of those wham-bams, but I couldn’t take it anymore. The pain is too much for two to three days, so I can’t do it everyday. It’s like…well… rape but I know that it can’t be rape because we’re married.
I must have whined a little in disapproval before he grabbed me in bed. I did exactly the very thing he ordered me never to do: whine to let him know I don’t want to do it.
Like it has happened many times before, he went ballistic in three seconds. It happened so fast! He got up, yanked me out of bed and threw me against a wall. I can’t remember which wall. I must have slammed on more than one. The world was spinning after I hit a huge vase resting on a pedestal. I crashed to the floor along with the porcelain. I didn’t know porcelain could break easily, but I felt a big shard slicing under my jaw.
I lunged at him with what’s left of my strength. He grabbed a handful of my hair. We ended up in the next room. I flew to my sea of shoes. He rushed to me, quickly yanked me up and just as he was about to throw me again onto another wall, I was able to grab a shoe.
With all my might, I hit him with the pointed heel on anywhere I can. I saw blood, though I don’t know whose. I can hardly open my eye with all the blood down my face.
In a flash, he was able to wrestle the shoe from my hand and the next thing I knew some warm liquid was spurting from my head. My knees were growing too weak. From my slowly dimming vision, I see my husband walk to the bedroom phone and dial a number.
A thought crossed my fuzzy mind before everything blacked out. Fanny can’t fix this one, this time.
And me and my husband have a big family reunion, on his side, coming up this weekend. Oh, and I’ve got to go to my designer today to try that outfit I had him do last week. He never gets it right around the waist.
