I really need a day off with lots of chocolate, tears and girlfriends, but I received an “emergency” call. One of my clients was in tears, but when I met “Laura” (name changed to protect the not so innocent) at my office I was reminded of what constitutes stress in Westlake Village woman speak. Not a sick child, not a loss of a job, but the Westlake Village Junior Women’s Club. Really?
Not a day goes by that I’m not amazed by the social pressures facing wealthy women in Westlake. Life was so simple before I moved here. No cheating husband (at least not that I knew of), no women with an insatiable desire for $400 handbags, and no blackmailing “friends” of said cheating husband.
Anyway, there’s nothing better than throwing oneself into work to forget your own problems, which is what brings me back to Laura. She was invited to be a member of an exclusive club, where she would hob-nob with other women whose handbag budget could feed and clothe a third-world country. But Laura was stressing that her home and husband wouldn’t measure up to the club’s scrutiny.
Fixing up her home would be easy. Her decorator (“the one who does everyone in North Ranch”) said she could get an updated look for just shy of $20K. What a bargain! But “fixing” her husband would be another story. “Steven needs to lose at least 15 pounds,” she declared, “and he could benefit from a little Botox.”
As our session ended, she decided to be charitable, as is the mission of Westlake Village Junior Women. She obviously noticed the puffy, red, blotchy look I was sporting. Handing me the card for her dermatologist she told me to give her name as a reference because apparently you just can’t get in without one and according to Laura, I was in need of Botox as much as Steven.
Poor Steven. At least I'm not the only one deficient in spouse selection skills.
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