“He Gave Me a ‘House Uniform’ After One Week—He Wasn’t Ready for the Consequences”

A Week After We Moved in Together, He Handed Me a ‘House Uniform’—He Wasn’t Ready for What Came Next

My new spouse gave me a frilly apron a week after we moved in together, referring to it as my “house uniform.” According to him, it’s “just tradition.” Despite my shock, I grinned and cooperated. Before I proved him incorrect, he believed he wanted a Stepford Wife.
After just one week of marriage, I was still feeling the high from the wedding, the honeymoon, and now moving into our first house and unloading our belongings.

Derek’s footsteps came down the corridor after I heard his key in the lock.

“Honey? With that cheeky edge he got when he was pleased about anything, he cried out, “I’m home.”

“In the kitchen,” I answered, placing down a crystal serving bowl that his aunt had given us as a wedding present.

With a smug smile on his face and his suit jacket draped over one shoulder, Derek emerged from the doorway. He had a big box tied with a ribbon in his free hand.

“Surprise!” He gave me the gift while wriggling his eyebrows.

My heart pounded. Even though we had decided that there would be no more gifts after the wedding, I couldn’t help but smile.

“What’s this?”

“Open it and see.” He watched me attentively as he leaned on the counter.

I raised the lid and undid the ribbon.

I looked at a frilly flowered apron that was neatly folded over what looked like an old-fashioned ankle-length dress instead of jewellery or something meaningful.

I was sure I was missing something, so I blinked.

Derek declared, “It’s your house uniform,” with unabashed pride. Every day, my mother wore one. It gives the impression of greater organisation.

I cautiously studied the black dress and ran my fingers over the cotton apron. Was “house uniform” another term for clothing worn by Puritans? It was only lacking a bonnet and a wide collar.

“You’re serious?” My voice was carefully bland as I asked.

Derek winked and doubled down. “Yes. But don’t worry, it’s just custom. “Keeps the homemaker mindset intact, don’t you think?”

I looked at him, looking for any hint of humour in his features. One did not exist.

He went on, “I thought it would be a nice surprise,” in a tone that suggested I should express my gratitude.

“It’s definitely a surprise,” I said, trying to maintain a neutral demeanour.

I was shocked by what was taking place. Although I hadn’t signed up for this, I questioned whether I should have anticipated it.

When I worked as a successful analyst, I got to know Derek. Since we both hoped to have two or three children in the future, he had persuaded me during our year of dating that I would adore being a stay-at-home mum.

He insisted that I would be happier as a traditional wife, that I could rediscover myself, take up new interests, and eventually concentrate on the kid, when I suggested looking for remote employment.

I had consented to test it.

However, this? This was a whole other level.

“All right? What are your thoughts? Derek asked.

I gave him a long, hard look. His smile was as happy as a child watching fireworks on July 4th, and there was a glitter in his eyes. He was incredibly innocent, not evil.

“It’s… traditional, you say?” I succeeded.

His expression brightened. “Yes! My mother used to wear something similar like this.

“All right. similar to your mother. I cautiously closed the box. “I’ll try it on later.”

“Excellent! I’m eager to see.” After giving me a cheek kiss, he went to the bedroom to get dressed.

Okay, I said to myself. Give him the impression that I’m cooperating.

I spread the outfit out on our bed that night. My mind was working out a scheme, and I pulled out my old, dusty sewing equipment from college to carry it out.

My spouse would never forget the wake-up call he was about to get!

Overnight, I became the ideal wife of the 1950s.

I scubbed baseboards on my knees, vacuumed in pearls I’d received from my grandmother, and made Derek breakfast before sunrise while wearing the outfit faithfully.

“You see? It simply makes everything more enjoyable, doesn’t it? On the third morning, Derek was wearing the whole outfit and grinning as he watched me flip pancakes.

“Oh, absolutely,” I said in a honey-sweet voice.

By the fifth day, I was doing house to the best of my abilities, not simply playing it.

Additionally, I had completed stitching my acerbic and incisive complaint. Embroidered on the apron was a name tag that said, “DEREK’S FULL-TIME HOUSEWIFE.”

I also began addressing Derek as “sir.”

I said, “Good morning, sir,” when he came downstairs. “Your morning meal is ready. Would you rather pour your own coffee, sir, or would you like me to do it for you?

Nervously, Derek laughed. “Honey, the uniform is sufficient. You don’t have to address me as “sir.”

With an innocent smile, I cocked my head. “Should I wait by the door at 6 p.m. sharp with your slippers, sir?”

He scowled. “What? No.”

I gently knocked on his office door later that night. “Permission to use the toilet during my shift, sir?”

Derek’s smile wavered a bit. “Okay, you don’t have to be sarcastic.”

“Sarcastic? I assumed this was customary. I pointed to my attire, which included a frilly apron and, more recently, white gloves I had purchased at a secondhand shop.

Derek’s supervisor and other colleagues joined him for supper that weekend.

As they filed in, I opened the door wide, greeted them in full costume, and curtsied nearly to the ground.

“Welcome to our home,” I said enthusiastically. “The master of the house will be down shortly to greet you.”

“Er… are you Derek’s wife?” As I took his coat, Richard, his supervisor, questioned.

I gestured at my name badge. “I am, sir.”

He gave an uncomfortable smile. “Well, that’s… What were your premarital activities?

“Oh, I retired my dreams the moment I said ‘I do,'” I smiled placidly in response. “Derek prefers it that way.”

The space grew cold. Derek turned beetroot crimson, having just down the steps.

“Honey, didn’t we agree that this… joke had gone a bit too far?” He said, hurrying up to meet his coworkers.

And I said, “But I’m not joking, sir,”. “I’m fulfilling my proper role as your wife.”

Anita, one of Derek’s colleagues, squinted. “Proper role?”

“The homemaker,” I clarified with a smile. “Derek upholds conventional values. The apron aids in keeping the proper attitude. I ran my hands over the ruffled material. “Darling, isn’t it? similar to what his mother wore.

The smile on Derek’s face froze. Richard stirred uneasily. Almost blending into Anita’s hairline were her eyebrows.

“Is that so?” Richard glanced between us and enquired.

Derek uttered the feeble statement, “Julia has a unique sense of humour,”

As the evening dragged on, Derek became increasingly uneasy by the minute. I only talked when someone spoke to me, and I served the food with mechanical accuracy.

Derek blew up after the guests had departed.

With furious tugs, he untied his tie and screamed, “What was that?” “You’re making me look like some kind of sexist pig!”

“Me?,” I said mockingly innocently. All I’m doing is living the dream you chose for me. Remember tradition?

“That’s not what I meant by tradition!” His voice broke.

“Then what did you mean?” With a firm smile, I asked quietly. “Because from where I stand, a ‘house uniform’ sends a pretty clear message about your expectations.”

“I had a thought… “My mother always—” he stammered out.

I remarked, “Your mum chose that for herself,” Or I think she did, anyway. However, you picked it for me.

He combed his hair with his hands. “All right. I understand. The uniform was excessive.

I told him, “The uniform was a symptom,” instead. “Derek, I never signed up to be your servant, but I did promise to try things your way when we were married. You should have hired a housekeeper and remained unmarried if that’s what you desire.”

In the kitchen, I hung the apron from a hook.

When I said, “I’m never wearing that thing again,” “And you need to think long and hard about whether you married me because you love me, or because you wanted a replacement Mommy.”

He began to object, claiming that he married me out of love, but I left the room and went to bed.

Derek gave me a farewell kiss on Monday morning as if nothing had happened. However, he was pale and reticent when he arrived that evening, and his keys clattered on the entry table as he entered.

“Rough day?” I asked from the couch, where I was sitting with my laptop open on my knees, wearing jeans and a t-shirt.

His voice was gruff as he said, “I got called into HR,” “Your wife’s performance was taken very seriously by someone. They questioned whether my treatment of women at work was influenced by my ‘traditional views’. The business is doing a “diversity audit,” and they will be keeping a careful eye on me.”

I pretended to be surprised by raising my eyebrows.

“Really? “That’s awful,” I remarked without intending to.

The apron was still hanging in the kitchen when his gaze strayed there.

Quietly, “You win,” he said. “I… I observed a lifestyle that appeared healthy on the surface, but I was unaware of its negative effects.

I shut down my laptop. “Then, we both benefit. You’ll keep your work, and I’ll get to wear trousers once more. In any case, I ultimately chose to accept a distant position. I began applying for jobs today.

I thought he might argue for a second. Instead, he gave a slow nod.

Finally, “I’m sorry,” he said. “Mom always looked so happy in her role, I thought…”

After saying, “You thought I’d be happy, too, but I’m not her,” I concluded for him.

I grabbed the outfit and shoved it in the back of the closet that evening.

We might bring it up and joke about it someday. Or perhaps we would set it on fire in the backyard. In any case, I moved away from the closet with a sneer twisted on my lips.