Stop Dressing Your Six-Year-Old Like A Skank - Plot & Excerpts
Suddenly, being a housewife is downright trendy. In two of this season’s biggest TV hits, housewives are either “desperate” or “swapped.” My, oh, my, what a refreshing change from the days when a housewife’s only virtue was that she might “have the magic of Clorox 2.” Finally, housewives are hot—whether they’re living lives of loud desperation on Wisteria Lane as in ABC’s megahit Desperate Housewives or they’re raising fat, pampered brats over on Wife Swap. Long ignored by everyone except peanut butter manufacturers, housewives are finally getting some ink for being sexy, complicated creatures that are too often underestimated. In other words, we’re here, we leer, get used to it. Having dinner with my stay-at-home mom friends the other night, we had to wonder why we don’t look like the babes on Desperate Housewives. I feel a little like most of New York City’s female population must’ve felt while watching Sex and the City for the first time. Who were these gorgeous women wearing five-hundred-dollar Manolos and little else as they bedded most of Manhattan?
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