"You can never think

You can't even stop yourself

Before the words have been spoken

And you've already said

You would give everything

And something for nothing

Everybody thinks you're joking"

Tracy Chapman "Broken"

Johanna was a small woman with short brown hair that shined like purple. She possessed the average build with a fantastic figure. She was envied by other women in the neighborhood...and eyed by their husbands. But she had no knowledge of this, and given the most significant clue, it would be a miracle if she ever suspected she was beautiful. She was also, the perfect wife. Not a strong-willed, yappy woman many husbands were used to. But this is what made her only desired in dreams. No man was ever really attracted to her personality...it was as if she didn't have one. She was too sweet, too perfect, too Stepford.

Johanna's husband was respected out of fear. He had a way of finding out people's dirty little secrets, and slipping some juicy info if anyone ever got in his way. He was not really respected. Everyone knew he was a weasel. Probably a sociopath who had no conscience or care for anyone but himself. He was the sleaziest kind of human that existed. And no one had respect for Johanna because of her obviously bad taste in men.

Johanna was in the worst position at dinner parties. She could hear the guests sneer behind her back. After a while, no one came to 'Steve and Johanna's' dinner parties anyway, so at least that horrible pain could be somewhat avoided.

But she missed cooking for so many people. Where a normal person would've poisoned all of them in one final sweep of revenge, Johanna felt no such satisfaction at the idea of vengeance and hatred. Her satisfaction was in keeping herself busy - believing she was important. Feeding the guests, and feeding them well.

She was once a member of the women's craft club in the neighborhood. They'd all watch Martha Stewart for the latest decorative ideas, and fall on the floor laughing at their numerous failed decor attempts. But the pain of being singled out was too much to bear. Worse than the pain of giving up one of her favorite hobbies - a hobby that kept her busy and joyful.

The same women were in the book club and had their own yoga trainer. Johanna still desperately wanted to be a part of it, but there was no point. She wrote them off in her mind - a little strength left in her. A little bit of will, that would never be noticed...never be praised...never be respected.

The older women didn't really care if she joined them in activities, but they didn't understand why such a young woman wouldn't spend her time doing something more...like her generation. Most women Johanna's age were out dancing or attending parties and getting drunk, before they lost the stomach for it. Johanna only wanted to be productive and peaceful...what the older women did was more of her calling. But she couldn't even participate in that anymore.