It’s that time of year again. The holiday season is has come and gone and we’ve endured breaking the bank to buy gifts and throw holiday parties for people we can only tolerate a few times a year. We’re also functioning under the delusion that New Year’s resolutions actually stick past MLK day.
After being deluged with hours of Lifetime and ABC Family holiday movies, I noticed a glaring trend. Every year around this time we are bombarded with movies all based on women who suddenly are thrown into some time warp. They always have to choose between their successful wall street-esque careers and their new lives as flustered housewives with 3 kids and PTA meetings. The movie usually begins with a montage of the young attractive female waking up at the crack of dawn, running 5 miles, with a blackberry in one hand and some sort of legal looking document in the other. We follow the ball busting woman through her day as she “makes mergers” or ‘bringing in the big bucks.” Cut to 11pm, she’s still at work behind a desk covered in papers and by now she’s wearing her glasses, and has a permanent scowl affixed on her thin face. A coworker knocks on the door and inquires as to when she’s heading home on this snowy night. Insert a sarcastic, scathing or disillusioned reply from our main character for example, “This is my home” with a stern look. Next comes the “crash scene” the young professional is driving home in inclement weather and her car suddenly spins out of control. She hits the brakes, because that’s what a woman would do, since we’re all horrible drivers. After watching flashbacks of her busy life and nights alone she awakens to a buzzing alarm clock and screaming children and 15 extra pounds on her face. 9 times out of 10 she’s wearing red flannel pajamas and the bedroom is a mess. It takes her about a week to reach the point where she has to make “the choice.” When confronted with the choice between the oh-so-awful life she had working full time and the life she’s inhabited for the past week (thanks to some ambiguous higher being or ghost from her past) the broad usually picks a house in the suburbs with 3 kids. So we fast forward through the years catching glimpses of her first date with the future husband, the engagement, her throwing the bouquet, her last day at the office, and of course when the first child is born. We end up at her waking up to the same buzzing alarm clock and wailing children, except this time the lady embraces her kids and husband. Tearfully saying “I’ve missed you, I wouldn’t trade this for anything.”
Well fuck me, isn’t that sweet? I guess my life is only reduced to two options, a successful and empty life or a soul crushing, hectic (but Valium induced happy) life as a housewife. Here’s my choice: I don’t like kids enough to let one come out of my vagina and bug the shit out of me until I die.