I never intended to become a cliche. But here I am. I’m 45 years old, the mother of adorable five-year-old twin girls and a husband who is a very wealthy man. Note that I say he’s a wealthy man, not that we are wealthy. I’m not wealthy. Not really. The money is his and I’ve always known that.
What I am is trapped.
I’m trapped in a desperate bid to stay attractive and youthful and sexually desirable. Because that is the woman he chose to marry 10 years ago and that is who I must remain if I want our marriage to stay intact. Our contract is implied and implicit. Except when he makes disparaging comments about my appearance. I’ll get to that in a moment.
I consider myself a feminist but my story is not a particularly glowing testimony to feminism. I did well in high school, aced my final exams but was drawn into modelling – it seemed far more glamorous and exciting than university. I was never a big-name model, never had a huge career, but I had a solid one for a good few years through my 20s.
I lived in Paris for a bit and then when it was clear I wasn't going to crack the high end, I moved to Miami where there is a vast amount of regular work. Fashion brands from all over the world come to Miami to shoot their catalogues and it's the bread and butter of the fashion industry due to its sheer volume. For a girl like me who is your basic blonde, skinny, white chick with long hair and boobs - tall but not catwalk tall - there's a good living to be made.
And the lifestyle is fantastic. I dated a few minor celebrities, did loads of drugs, worked out like a maniac to stay a sample-size 8 and supplemented my lifestyle above and beyond the income I made from modelling by hooking up with rich dudes. In the 90s, they were everywhere. It was an honest exchange between equals in many ways. They had flash houses and cars and boats and sometimes even private jets and they liked nothing more than to have a hot chick on their arm. These guys would never have been able to date women like me and my friends if they didn't have money.
Top Comments
Men who are looking for trophy women are easy to spot. They usually drive fast cars and flash big wads of money around. They brag about how they have the latest and most expensive "whatever" and will pay hundreds for prostitutes without batting an eye. Flesh is another item to be "bought". Thank you for posting your story. Like cars, we who are Trophy victims get old eventually and lose favor for the faster, newer, prettier version of whatever Mr. Trophy Hunter is after. Save yourselves a life of pain, neglect, and loneliness. Get away from these men as fast as you can.
Well...perhaps it's your overview on life that's turning him off. I mean WHY do TOO MUCH to yourself to the point that you don't look like YOU anymore? Consider the flip side which is, a person can also age as beautifully as fine wine. What takes less effort is working out and maintaining your personal style (clothing, manicure pedicure hairstyles and such). As oppose to staying stuck in the past, consider EVOLVING like your husband has managed to do with his business/wealth. Consider what you would have done or what you would've like to do aside from modeling. OR even consider modeling again for women within the age bracket of 40 and older...at least you do have experience AND the work would represent what you are today and you make your own money. WE ALL can evolve. Being a blast from the past would only make you into a paranoid maniac which again, can be a turn off, versus being a mature, sophisticated woman of today preparing for tomorrow in her own right. Find a life outside of your husband that represents your talents or likes.....don't be afraid to allow evolution to occur. Perhaps he can appreciate that more but most importantly, you can find peace within yourself too.