The 1950’s Housewife.

She was born in the wrong decade, weren’t we all. I picture her standing in a polka dot dress, apron and oven gloves in front of an oven the size of a minibus. As she cocks one leg behind her in a coy fashion she pulls out a steaming tray of freshly baked cookies and a posh voiceover talks in my head like an old advert about new ways to improve the daily chores and American streamlining. She smiles and imagines quadruplets as her banker husband floats stocks and shares to pay for all the nappies. Her hair is tied back with a bow that takes years off her and with a bright yellow duster she wipes the frame that hangs proudly above the fireplace, the embroidery stitching inside spelling out for all visitors to see ‘I am sew lucky’.

50shousewife

Advertisements
This entry was posted in short story. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s