The one thing I heard more than anything else was that I was intelligent, smart, clever, insightful even, but never pretty, and lets face it, all I ever wanted to be was cute and gorgeous. Screw being clever and stuff, I want some mans heart to melt upon seeing me. Well, guess in my case this problem could only be solved by the following: a man who was smarter than me. He could then see past my brainy self and see a girl.
And, praise be to God, I am finally less clever than those surrounding me. Well, in all fairness it did happen before, mainly in University settings, during my masters for instance, whilst being surrounded by phd candidates most of the time. So I am not quite under the illusion to outsmart everyone. Though in most cases I did, and so got away with murder, which, in the case of matters brilliance meant getting away with getting things wrong.
In terms of facts, most people did not dare to question my authority on being cunning and in the know, so, more often than once I would get it wrong. And no one would know, least of all me. So, really, being stupid with my husband works in my favour. Firstly I can learn things that I previously was ignorant about and secondly I can be pretty, as the main priority is no longer my intellect. Of course it bugs me at times how now he is mostly right instead of me, but those sweet whispers reminding me of my cuteness more than make up for it.
In conclusion, being dumb came to my rescue, fulfilling all those hidden desires. Guess that is pretty backhanded in a way, don’t you think?