The Lost Housewives

I found them. The lost housewives. Remember those women from when you were growing up? The ones that took their housewifery very seriously. The ones that spent copious amounts of time eliminating waxy yellow buildup? The ones that spent hours clipping coupons and making shopping lists? The ones whose hair was perpetually in a state of curlers covered by a bandana? The ones who wore sensible shoes and anklets on legs that were rarely shaved or moisturized? The ones who looked angry. All. The. Time.

I stopped at a grocery store yesterday – a few miles from my relatively yuppie neighborhood. It was on the fringe of the city in a modest area with modest little houses. I walked in and thought that I had stepped back into 1974. If I wasn’t standing next to the microwave popcorn, I would have sworn that I had time traveled.

Throughout the store were the type of women that I hadn’t seen in over 30 years. They were all middle-aged and seemed stuck in a time warp. They shopped s-l-o-w-l-y, making sure not to miss a store special on meat or the opportunity to cash in on a double coupon.

One lovely lady, in Capri pants purchased the first time Capri pants were in style, seemed deeply confused when I excused myself to get around her and get to the butter. She moved out of the way and then shuffled along, rifling through her coupons. She was either very tired from a morning spent scrubbing tile grout or over the limit on her Prozac dosage.

What impressed me more than the lost housewives’ sense of style or subdued nature, was the idea that these gals hadn’t had fun in a long, long time. I don’t think they’ve laughed since the Carter administration and I’m pretty damn sure that they don’t go to lunch with their friends. I’m betting that their hubbies haven’t taken them out to dinner since the refrigerator broke. I think it’s safe to say that they’ve sacrificed their own identities to maintain their well-run homes. I felt a little sad for them.

And after rushing past the butter blocker, I high-tailed it out of that grocery store hoping to never encounter the Lost Housewives again. There but for the grace of God go I.