I was simply an appendage, not necessary for anything. While trying to accompany my husband on business trips with his frequent flyer miles, however I often was left home, alone.He had his mistress, the business. Who was I, simply the provider of domestic tranquility? Financially well off, I became a Nordstrom's and Saks' Fifth Avenue attired ornament who spent half a day once a week at a salon, maintained shoulder-length hair, bathed in a bubble bath, used exotic lotions to keep a supple skin and layered it with expensive French lingerie. I drove an SL500 cream-colored hardtop Mercedes with a vanity license plate, in short, a stereotype rich, bitch, ornament, a title that didn’t annoy me.It kept me from seeing myself as past tense but wasn’t enough to avoid a mid-life crisis; I needed something dramatic, a statement greater than wearing an orange dress.After wishing for larger breasts since Erica I decided the ornament needed was a boob job. They went from 34 B to 36 C on a summer. She was no longer comfortable in her own skin. Seeing the young vivacious girl leaving for her future had come to this broke my heart and I silently mourned for the loss of that precious little girl. I looked over at Mandy as she watched me assess Laurel. Once she was satisfied that I was able to take in all of Laurel without her interference she walked over to stand next to her. They both knelt before me with their eyes downcast. We had never done this kneeling thing and it made me feel weird. I stood and waited hoping for good news but I knew in my heart that this will be bad. Mandy’s behavior and my assessment could mean nothing else I stood silently waiting as Laurel struggled to start. She leaned ever so slightly into Mandy seeming to need her strength to continue. She drew a shuddering breath and in a soft whisper, ‘Sir, this slave has finished her course and is now a qualified vet…’ She stopped and clenched her hands digging her nails into her palm. I silently waited for her.
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