Yesterday, as Cinderella was dancing across our TV screen and I was fishing a toy out from under the couch and cleaning whatever I could get while I was at it, I realized something. I’m Cinderella.
I work for no pay. I’m expected to cook, clean, do laundry, and be pleasant while all that’s going on. My family doesn’t really appreciate my hard work, and they make constant demands: MILK! SNACK! DIAPER! MAKE HIM STOP HITTING ME! My clothes are worn. Animals (my dog and cat) follow me around all day, but they don’t help me do housework. I have no life. It’s hard to make any social invitations work because I have to check with the bosses.
But wait! Where’s the fairy godmother? If I’m Cinderella, then the fairy godmother should be showing up soon, right? I have a few requests and suggestions if she’d like me to get to the Mom Prom on time.
- A Plastic Surgeon: I would love to get rid of the three-C-section “shelf” very low on my belly. The one that will never ever go away, no matter what I do? That one. And the good doctor can work as far north as he deems fit. My goals: cute young clothes (bra optional), and a bikini (not the Lands End mom suit I’ve been rocking for the past eight years).
- The Outfit: Since I have the hot new plastic surgeried-bod, I will certainly need a new hot (yet not inappropriate for motherhood) dress. Cinderella had no say in this decision, and I feel it’s best left up to the experts, of which I’m not.
- The Hair: I look fantastic leaving the salon and never that good again until I see my hair stylist the next time. This is the hair goal, a perfect coif that I had to take a picture of the other day. Yes, fairy godmother, please, please, make my hair look like this. All the time.
- The Housework: I think I could live with mice if they did housework, so that would be okay if you sent them. I would probably rather they be bunnies or puppies that behave well, but any animal that happily does constant housework would be awesome. And if the housework were completed by the time I got home from the Mom Prom, all the better.
- The Ride: I actually love my GMC Acadia, but Cinderella could never be seen in a mom car, right? Just hook me up with a slick convertible, fairy godmother, and I’ll be on my way!
- The Date to the Mom Prom: My husband will be just perfect, thank you. He really is Prince Charming.
I look around and realize that, even though I like to be snarky and complain, I have no reason to. If the fairy godmother really showed up, I would just tell her to move on to the next girl who really needed to be rescued. If she wanted to leave the plastic surgeon and the perfect hair, though, I wouldn’t complain.
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