334 Days Until the Big Five-0

Of course, the term “desperate housewives” now conjures up the very popular Television Series with that name. First, we are asked to compare ourselves with our real neighbors. Who has the bigger house, the better car, the nicest jewelry, the coolest vacations, the most toys, the most athletic children, the smartest kids etc. etc. What makes us feel “desperate”, without hope, fearless of danger, frantic, reckless, in hot pursuit of materialistic possessions so our neighbors will think more highly of us, and even better, envy us.

Then the mass media enters our lives and we are being asked to compare ourselves with fictional women whose bodies are sculpted by personal trainers and plastic surgeons. Or better yet the “real” Housewives from New Jersey which has forever changed the definition of the word “real” in my mind. I for one will not be sleeping with the landscapers, who by the way are not hunky high school students. My friends who are divorced do not find themselves living comfortably across the street from some gorgeous hunk. No one is being murdered, that I know of. We probably all have dozens of skeletons in our closets even when it isn’t Halloween. Things like stressed out marriages, not enough sex, mentally ill siblings and/or parents, illnesses we encounter, overcome or learn to live with.

But our problems don’t seem as “sexy” as the ones on TV, both fictional and non-fictional. I am going to take a wild guess that today’s “desperate housewives” have it better than those from 50 years ago. There are still two wars lingering out there (anyone talking about Iraq or Afghanstan at the local Starbucks lately??) I don’t see many stars in the windows like I did growing up in the City during the height of the Viet Nam War, or are we calling it an “occupation”? Gasoline is still costing a small fortune, yet many of the homes built in the last 20 years have three car garages. “Once upon a time” many housewives did not even drive let alone own their own cars. Now we complain about driving our kids around all day.

There are no more neighborhoods where the children are sent out to play all day until dinner time. We need, and appear to have plenty of, money for classes so our children will be able to compete with out neighbor’s children in a whole host of areas from sports to academics. The chase is on. Is that why we are desperate? Does it all boil down to having too many choices and not enough sense to make the wise ones?

I am truly blessed, living a life of relative luxury, the life of a so called “desperate” housewife. I do indeed have landscapers come to mow my spacious lawn. My mother simply told my brothers to do it. They were free as long as you don’t count the cost of a complaint now and then. I don’t “feel” so desperate. I guess it all depends on your perspective, or definition of the words “desperate” and “housewife.” After all, I did not marry a house, I married a man. Perhaps that is why so many of my colleagues get so desperate comparing their houses. They should be comparing their husbands.