Just Once, I'd Like To See A "tradwife" Blog Where The Wife In Question Looks 10 Years Older Than She

just once, i'd like to see a "tradwife" blog where the wife in question looks 10 years older than she really is. i'd like to see the prematurely white hairs, the dried and wrinkled hands, the cracked and dull nails from constantly cleaning and washing dishes, the dark circles and eye bags. i want to see the trad wives who gained weight during pregnancy and never managed to lose it, the ones who have nowhere to complain that their knees and backs ache from scrubbing bathroom floors, the ones dead tired from spending all day on their feet sweeping and cooking.

i want to see the trad wives who look messy and disheveled because they had no time to wash their hair this week, whose faces hurt from falling asleep with their makeup on every night from sheer exhaustion. i want to see the trad wives who haven't bought a new dress in years, whose prettiest clothes don't fit them anymore, who only have one bra at this point and it's five years old and the underwire's starting to come out. i want to see the trad wives who are ashamed of their appearance, of the way their bodies changed, the baby weight they never shed. the ones who look longingly and jealously at wealthier women their age who look 10 years younger, those who have the time and money to invest in their looks and hobbies.

i want to see the trad wives whose children take them for granted. those whose children think the beds make themselves, the meals cook themselves, the house cleans itself. those whose children never help out around the house because "that's mom's job". i want to see the trad wives whose sons take after their fathers and never lift a finger to help because "that's women's work", and whose daughters are forced to become mini mothers and housekeepers from a young age because "that's women's work". i want to see the trad wives whose sons never grow up and whose daughters never get to be kids, because that's what they're taught.

i want to see the trad wives whose children are disabled. those whose toddlers aren't beautiful and docile little angels, but who have behavioural issues, developmental issues, health issues of all kinds. children who are crippled, paralyzed, on the spectrum, with down syndrome, deaf, blind, nonverbal. those whose children will require permanent care or even hopitalization throughout most of their lives, who require therapy or medication, who struggle with chronic pain or emotional regulation, for whom every day is a fight.

i want to see the trad wives whose husbands struggle to make ends meet. i want to see trad wives faced with a near-empty pantry, trying to figure out what to feed their children with. i want to see trad wives whose husbands are breaking down under financial strain, constantly irritable and withdrawn because they don't know how they'll afford the mortgage this month. i want to see the trad wives who have no idea how to help pay the bills because men are the ones who handle finances. i want to see trad wives struggling to hold back tears when their children complain about eating spaghetti and tuna for the second week in a row, or when they ask for a christmas gift they can't afford.

i want to see the trad wives who can't remember their own hobbies. i want to see trad wives whose eyesight's so far gone that by the time they have time, they can no longer read, or paint, or sew. i want to see the trad wives who gave up on their self-care routines long ago because there wasn't time nor money, the ones who haven't bought a candle or a new novel or a colored pencil set in years because their kids' dental surgery or college tuition was more important. i want to see the trad wives who say "i used to be a wonderful dancer once" or "i really loved pottery once" or "i was very good at math once, doubt i remember any of it now" with a sad, faraway look in their eyes.

i want to see the trad wives who are real. these pastel moodboards full of flowers and shining kitchens and blonde babies and thin young women with perfect skin are an illusion. they don't exist. to be a traditional housewife is to accept a life full of sacrifice. it means you're willing to waste away, to shrink in on yourself until there's almost nothing left, just for the sake of your family.

even if you do everything right, if you marry a good man who provides for you and doesn't abandon you, or cheat on you, or abuse you in any way (which is already like finding a needle in a haystack), you will still be faced with exhaustion and suffering. your children will not be perfectly angelic and lovely. your house will not be clean and flawless at all times. your husband will not be loving and doting forever. you will have to work yourself to the bone; you will have to sacrifice your looks, your health, your hobbies, your emotional needs, your physical and mental well-being. nothing about you will be a priority anymore.

if that kind of sacrifice is worth it to you, then i commend you; you are far braver and more noble than i. but if you are not willing to sacrifice everything about yourself for the sake of your family, then you should take a long, hard look in the mirror, and ask yourself if you've fallen in love with a fantasy. because i can promise you, the reality is so, so much uglier than you ever could've imagined.

if you're pro-life and you're not actively fighting to make this a reality for women everywhere, you're not really pro-life. you're just anti-abortion.

it's not the same thing.

i'd like to consider myself in this category tbh

i am very aggressively protective over nonbinary people who look amab because some of you are very quick to accept nonbinary people who look afab but shit on anyone else.

and stop saying "afab nonbinary" and "amab nonbinary" because we all know you're just treating us like "female" and "male" which, yk is the exact opposite of what nonbinary is meant to be.

treat nonbinary people like nonbinary people, nothing else.

@mr-mystery-man

having a cat is great. there's a small little animal wandering around. effervescent