It was all so simple. The American dream built from apple pies, white picket fences, and plastic smiles was all this dreamer from suburbia wanted. I followed the societal recipe to the letter, just like my mother taught me:
1 cup perfect husband
2 cups children
1 Tbs. man’s best friend
2 Tsp. house in the most sought after neighborhood
Dash of pressed clothes and home cooked meals
Season to taste with neighborhood gatherings, bake sales, and PTA fundraisers
Until one day, I woke up. As if slowly coming out of a foggy state, I wiped the sleep from my eyes and began to question every stupid-ass, status quo, indoctrinated standard… and challenge it. One glass of vodka and inappropriate comment at a time. What can I say? I like a personal challenge.