We start young, aching to prove success.
We add a layer — success means the latest phone.
I hold the display model in my hand, "How many megabytes of storage does this iPhone have?"
We add a layer — success means a nice car.
I ask the salesman, "What is the monthly payment?"
We add a layer — success means nice furniture, brand name kids' clothes, adventurous vacation photos on Instagram.
I hold the credit card application in my hand, "So if I pay for it within six months, there's no interest?"
We add a layer — success means a larger home.
I turn to my husband, "Can we up the counter-offer? I really want this house."
We add a layer — success means a lucrative career.
I send my husband a text, "I am still at the office. Can you tell her that I'm sorry I missed her game tonight?"
We end up as old Matryoshka Dolls, aching to be free of the burdens of our success.
