Yep. According to this old advert, it’s only women who are afflicted with venereal disease. Dem bitchez pass it like hot potatoes, too, clearly.
And then we have the old “Spice up your marriage by not dressing like a schlub around the house” advertisements. Personally, I love this one. I’m a creature of comfort — I could wear yoga pants and a long-sleeved t-shirt every. single. day. And you know what? Being that I work from home, many, many days, I do. And I am not ashamed of that. If my husband (we’ll be married three years this year) told me that he, uh, “didn’t appreciate” the way that I dressed while kicking around the house, I think I might have to tell him to leave. Go have an affair with a better-dressed woman and then leave. Seriously.
Then we have the ads depicting the home domain as being solely “women’s work.” I do love these, and for many reasons. Primarily, because for the most part (at least in my experiences), women do keep their households neat and tidy. You tell most (not all, but many) men to run the household for a week and … jelly stains on the cabinets, crumbs lining the perimeter of the kitchen, towels sitting in the bathroom that may have been used — gasp! — six or seven times apiece. It’s anarchy. Really. While I can’t stand the ads that formerly proclaimed that household duties such as cooking and cleaning were “women’s work,” I can definitely say that I’m cool with taking on the responsibility of doing it myself. My father always said, and I have to agree with it whole-heartedly: “If you want something done right, do it yourself.” I’ve lived by this motto and I will die by this motto, but don’t get me wrong; if you insist that it’s my “job” to keep the house in order, you’ll find accidental holes in the cuffs of your best suit, lint balls in the armpits of your cashmere sweater and bleach spots all over the new dry-clean only hat that somehow got thrown in the washer with the sheets. Oops!
And then you have the old ads of babies doing weird stuff. Like, you know, shaving. And drinking soda (see prior post about my disdain for soda). And falling out of bathtubs while unattended. In the mind frame of our apparently-illustrious male-dominated history, where the hell were the childrens’ mothers during all of this?
And in conclusion, we have the ever-popular and always-timeless glamorization of spousal abuse. Gotta love this one. I’d be damned in this day and age (or in any day and age, frankly) if I’d be afraid to do something because I feared being “spanked” by my husband. … Ha!
Most would expect me to say, “Thank your lucky stars, women, that we were allowed the opportunities to get out from underneath.” But I will not say that, no, I won’t. I will say, “Thank your lucky stars, men, that you gave up the ghost and put this asinine crap behind you. You probably wouldn’t have survived another couple of decades with these kinds of ads poisoning the minds of generations to come.”
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