My Job: Millionaire's Wife

I've always wanted to say this: my job is millionaire's wife

All my girlfriends dreamed of becoming a doctor, actress, kindergarten teacher or café owner. I, on the other hand, really only wanted to marry a millionaire and answer the question about my job with: my job is millionaire's wife. To become the dazzling wife of a slightly quirky but very rich man. It has so many incredible advantages, because I'd always be the beauty, the one who made it, bathing in money and luxury. Why bother with all the other stress? Glamour, leisure and a very healthy lifestyle can't be bad, right? My conscience is fairly clear, because my job as a millionaire's wife means I adorn the man at my side just as much. It takes a good dose of self-confidence to see yourself as decorative. But that can absolutely be learned.

Women hate it when I say: my job is millionaire's wife.

And it absolutely is a job! My job: millionaire's wife! Every day I take care of my fitness, my grooming and my diet, and I look after the image I project to the outside world. With a bit of skill, finding a millionaire isn't that hard at all. You simply have to hang out at events where successful men can be found. Sales trainings, openings and expensive car dealerships have sometimes turned out to be real goldmines. The man brings the success and the woman brings the beauty. That's a deal that works. Of course, you have to accept some compromises on looks, but that's perfectly bearable, as long as he's well-groomed. Don't worry, most men in that world are. Character isn't entirely unimportant, though. Of course, as a millionaire's wife I must never push myself completely into the spotlight; the man should always think he has me in the palm of his hand. In the end, though, I'm the one pulling the strings. Yes, it's a bit sexist, but being a millionaire's wife is my job.

My job: millionaire's wife. Yes, it really is a job

I like to call myself certified, since I spent years focusing on my dream and working toward it. My education is excellent and my appearance is always perfect. If I ever catch a cold, my personal stylists come to me, because no matter what happens, I'm a professional. I smile, I'm in a good mood, well rested and the perfect accessory to my husband. Sometimes he annoys me, and I often don't care for the physical closeness either. Still, I prefer my job as a millionaire's wife to slaving away 160 hours a month. There's no comparison. My life is good, and I worked hard for it. Sometimes I do wish for a bit more love, something real, more freedom, and a simple life without the frills. I'd like to be more me. But every job has its pitfalls, right?