The Girl He Married
I cooked the other night.
If this were six months ago, my husband would have been impressed.
If it were six years ago, he would have been shocked.
So as he savored his mustardy pork chops with apples and onions via “Dinner: A Love Story,” he looked at me happily and said – “wow…so not the girl I married.”
He was joking, of course, and we had a good laugh.
But it got me thinking…how different am I from the girl he married?
The one who stood next to him in a small garden in Old Montreal eight years ago next week and said “I do,” through nervous giggles in front of 50 or so guests?
Well, for starters, that girl was about 15 pounds lighter. Let’s just get that out of the way, shall we?
She had just moved to Los Angeles to build a career and get a nice tan and try her luck in Hollywood.
She had no real vision of kids, a house, a subscription to Food Network Magazine…
She had pretty much the same hairstyle I have now (note to self: time for a change).
She was starting to get tired of late nights out, but couldn’t quite wrap her head around early morning wake ups…if only she knew what was coming.
She was just starting to feel the pinch of real-life expenses on a real-life entry-level salary. Rent in Los Angeles, a car payment…therefore she could never feel good about splurging.
She had like two real jobs on her resume.
She picked the wrong bridesmaids dresses.
She couldn’t boil water…she needed to Google how to make an egg.
She considered laying on the beach with a magazine a sport.
She cherished her friendships. She didn’t realize how some of them would change…some for the better, others not.
She was nervous, but excited. Not for marriage. But for the future, what it would bring to her.
If I could go back, I would tell her just one thing: it will bring you a killer recipe for pork chops.
Are you different from the girl your husband married? How?