I don’t know much about marriage
But this much I know
Ever since I jumped the broom
Seven months ago
Everybody’s tried to tie me with a bow and gift wrap me tight
Of their idea of what it means to be my husband’s wife
When I say things like I bought me nachos
And steal a chip or two
I’m questioned like “you’re not going to wait for Tracey”
But what does it matter to you?
I said I bought them for me
A singular statement meaning me, myself and I
Now can we please stop acting like it’s 1889
Like I’m his wife first
And a woman last
I’m still a person
Or did you forget that?
I’m told I have career options
Motherhood, they say
As if the only job I can get
Is to be somebody’s mommy
I’m not saying it’s not a job
Its not that at all
I could use a different one
But I’m just simply appalled
Of the boxes we don’t dare create for men
Crazy part of it all
These are real statements made by women
How dare you build this box
And try to force me to fit the mold
When women have a hard enough time creating their own narrative
Isn’t it getting old?
With being everything to everybody and putting ourselves last
It’s enough pressure as is, can we please keep those traditional ideals in the past?
So, no, marriage has not given me a new found sense of purpose
It’s not the only place from which my happiness stems
I’m on a journey to be the best woman I can be
And I won’t be mad if it benefits him
I just will not and cannot be the wife everyone wants me to be
Excuse me while I decide what makes sense for my husband and me
