TGIF

Yes, I am very aware that this title is incredibly lame. It is the Friday before Labor Day weekend and I have absolutely no concrete plans. Scratch that, I am going to the Blackbird Bistro in about 15 minutes to enjoy a plate of breadcrumb-dusted macaroni and cheese. That is really all I have planned for the next 3 days.

After an endless afternoon spent writing about a zillion Tokyo events, I'm not sure how I can stand to write much more. I have learned more about Japan in the last 8 hours than I would if I actually visited there. So, please allow me to make the disclaimer that this post may suck because my brain is fried. I am tired, hungry, and I soon may be drunk.


What I intend to write (and who knows how far I'll get) is a scathing piece about women that model their lives after Sex and the City. Although it is one of my favorite shows, I've recently become aware of more and more women prancing down the street in skirts and high heels, clutching tiny purses like miniature Carrie Bradshaws.

Sex and the City is fictional, the characters are fictional, so whether you identify with Carrie, Charlotte, Miranda, or Samantha, just remember that they don't exist. The so-called fabulous New York life is not reality. If it is, you must be very rich, in loads of debt, or living in Brooklyn.

I'll admit it, I've been seduced by the tall buildings and neon lights of the big city. I grew up in Chicago and before I relocated to Seattle, I thought that Chicago was the only city that every existed. When I moved, I felt like I left my long-time lover. As I soon started to love another, I realized one American city is just like the next. Even the view gets old after awhile.

And the fashion. One summer morning, I decided to pull a Carrie Bradshaw and slip on the velvet peep toe heels I just purchased from Nordstrom's Rack. Limping down the street towards the bus, I felt like I was playing dress-up in my mother's clothes. People stared. The outfit was cute, the black pencil skirt and hot-pink polka-dot wrap shirt coordinated beautifully and someone even gave me a seat on the bus. But mobility was definitely a problem and after a day spent sucking in my stomach, I decided never to try high fashion again.

Given that the extravagant lifestyle and ridiculous fashion is simply not REAL, it is only logical to assume that the character's sexual relationships are exaggerated. I think women can have/should have sex with whomever they want. But only if they enjoy it and are absolutely sure that the men aren't using them.

Having a lot of sex partners is dangerous to a woman's self-esteem if she feels at all cheapened by these encounters. Some women can handle having casual sex, but as I've observed many cannot. Sex should never be a way to establish your identity or gain power. It certaintly should not be modeled after a late 90's TV show.

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That is my rant of the day. Stay tuned for tales from my not-so glamorous life. I'll be describing my rebellious crooked tooth and mysterious rash.