Chameleon

I'm the perfect daughter. Hair perfectly quaffed. Dress pressed, smile pasted on with muted lipstick and makeup. Shake hands smile at the rest of the bible-belts doing their Sunday obligation. And as, I walk to my car, I turn the engine on and take the napkin out of my glovebox and wipe another week away.

I get home. Start the stove for appetizers for football. Refrigerate another twelve pack for "the boys." Shrug into a jersey of his favorite team. Smile and laugh as they all come in and settle down. Not one offer to help, but I serve without a frown. I am the perfect hostess.

Brush the teeth, and set the alarm. Check emails to see the latest I can sleep before I have to make lunches, meal prep and dinner for the family. Fall into a restless sleep, as the rest of the world sleep we quietly. Wake up before before it goes off. Everyone is ready to go, and I send them off and prepare myself. I am the perfect wife.

Get to work, go to my cubicle. Greet and smile and log into my life for eight hours. Finish my projects and logout. Decline plans for happy hour but I will see you all tomorrow. I am the perfect employee.

Go to the store, finish the dinner and when everyone is asleep I sneak a nice warm bath. Look at the bubbles, and cry silently. I am perfect for everyone, except my inner being.