Oh, those Desperate Housewives. How does one resist a primetime show on a major network that begins with a perfectly lovely housewife in an affluent suburb shooting herself in the head? Thank you, Alan Ball, for paving the way for all that is macabre. We’ve actually developed a taste for this.
The life coach in me is just itching to set up shop in the middle of Wisteria Lane and sit these women down one at a time. Where oh where to begin?
Let’s start with Bree. She’s perfect and in control. She wears pearls. She feeds her husband onions when he’s allergic and puts him in the hospital. She tells a table full of guests that he cries when he ejaculates. He leaves. All the while, she continues to keep up the peachy family facade. Bree, honey, put on some sweatpants and a t-shirt, turn on Jerry Springer and eat some Bon Bons. Then let’s talk about getting you out of the house for some volunteer work or Spanish classes or something, OK?
Now to Susan. Her husband left her for his young blonde secretary. She’s already accidentally burned down a house angling for a man’s attention. She put gravy behind her ears to attract said man’s dog and was mortified when the dog ate her earring and had to be rushed to the vet. No slouch in the looks department, Susan could have any man she wants if she’d relax, see the life lessons in her nasty divorce and keep wearing those tight shirts. I’d have her write affirmations reflecting all of the above.
As for Lynette, this former business executive has four unmanageable boys and a husband who travels a lot for work. She has gone into a pool fully clothed to discipline them. She has been pulled over by a cop because they were all so unruly she couldn’t get them to keep their seatbelts buckled. Lynette, please, I beg you, find yourself a babysitter and get out of the house. Go to Starbucks and sip a strawberry frappuccino. Take a yoga class. This isn’t rocket science, honey. You need a break.
And then there’s Gabrielle. She’s a trophy wife that went for the material life. She has everything she could ever want except attention, so she has a steamy affair with the hunky young gardener. The little girl next door sees her undressing the gardener and is now blackmailing her for things like a bicycle. This one’s kind of tricky (have you seen the gardener?). But I digress. Gabrielle needs to dig deep and figure out what’s most important to her, inner peace or jewels from Cartier? We could begin by exploring some creative outlets like writing or photography or painting.
From Desperate Housewives to Balanced, Sane Housewives?
How very dull.