I have this desire to be what I think of as Wonder Wife. I compare myself to Wonder Wife and given that Wonder Wife is, well, Wonder Wife, I always fall short.

Wonder Wife is a perfect cook. She never burns things. Everything comes out at the same time, looks lovely, and everyone loves Wonder Wife’s cooking. She also cleans as she cooks, and the kitchen is SPOTLESS after Wonder Wife goes through it.

Wonder Wife is an amazing housekeeper. Everything sparkles or gleams. Everything is clean, and everything smells fresh, or of lavender, garlic, and freshly baking bread. You can eat off her floor and perform emergency open heart surgery in her bathroom without fear of contamination. Bacteria are too afraid to live in Wonder Wife’s bathrooms!

Wonder Wife never nags. She is never cross, and she never looses her patience. Wonder Wife never tells the children that if they don’t shut up she will duct tape them to things. Wonder Wife never tells the husband that if he leaves his socks on the living room floor she’s going to burn them all and where will he be then? Wonder Wife, in fact, has perfect control of all the laundry in the house at all times.

Wonder Wife never kills houseplants.

Wonder Wife is never too tired, cranky, or bloated for sex. Her lingerie always matches and has the faint scent of a lavender sachet. Her panties are never wrinkled from being shoved into the drawer. Wonder Wife never farts during sex, in fact, she never farts at all.

Wonder Wife is more than just a housewife, of course. Wonder Wife comes standard with a high-paying, high-profile career! Wonder Wife pays all the bills, balances the budget, does all the shopping, and makes sure her home runs like a well-oiled machine. Speaking of machines, she does all her own auto maintenance.

Wonder Wife is never unthrifty. She never buys candy bars on impulse. She never messes up, gets tired and says fuck this at night and gets take out. Wonder Wife has managed to reach all her financial goals because her savings rate is well over 50%. She is never frustrated or overwhelmed. She is never cranky. She always knows what the right thing to do and the right thing to say is.

When something bad happens and Wonder Wife cries, her face never gets blotchy, her nose does not run, and her eyes do not get puffy. She looks beautiful and ethereal, with dainty little sighs, not gut-wrenching puker sobs.

Wonder Wife is a fantastic crafter. When she knits, she never drops a stitch and always checks her gauge. She makes her perfectly fitting clothes herself with 100% English suiting wool she managed to get for $1.99/yard, and she spends less than $1.00 a day to feed her entire family gourmet food. Wonder Wife never makes pancakes with mix. All of her food is organic, local, in season, and perfect.

Wonder Wife is better read than I am, more educated, and (oh yes) thinner. Wonder Wife actually goes to all the yoga, martial arts, and swimming classes that I want to go to but don’t have the time/money/energy for. Wonder Wife wears high heels and stockings (never pantyhose) every day, with skirts. Her legs are never stubbly, and her feet are never in desperate need of a pedicure. Her makeup is always perfect and her hair is well behaved.

In fact, Wonder Wife would be perfect if she didn’t live in the back of my god damned head, and constantly remind me when I am NOT measuring up to what Wonder Wife should be doing.

When I talk about battling perfectionism, I’m not talking about a minor urge to make sure the cabinets are all closed (although I don’t like it when they are open, it shows my lack of organization to the world). I’m not talking about having a problem where if something pops up, I get all triggered. No, Wonder Wife is my constant companion, looking over my shoulder, and tut-tutting when I fall short of being Wonder Wife. I have managed to mostly get a grip on her evil friends who sit there and pile on the shame, guilt, and self loathing for not being Wonder Wife (she, herself, would never be mean enough to point out anyone else’s shortcoming, after all, that would be rude). I no longer bottle up the horror of not being good enough, or wonder when everyone else is going to figure out that I’m not good enough to love because after all, Wonder Wife must really exist and I am just a poor, pale, flabby substitute.

I hate that. Wonder Wife and her evil sidekicks are always just around the corner in my mind. I don’t want to give the impression to anyone that I am Wonder Wife, I’m just trying. I want my house to be clean, my kids to be happy, my laundry to smell nice, and my menfolk to be happy. I want my money in order and my life all nice and shiny, but I’m not there yet. Please, don’t read about my experiments and let the goofy stuff I am doing give your Wonder Wife more ammo!