This article was written for you! And millions just like you – women who want to take control of their lives, who want to put an end to negative thoughts and cellulite. Who want to slice through the clutter and botox their secrets forever. Ladies, we know who you are.
Take Sunira, for example. She is at a crossroads, her husband works hard, her children wear keys around their necks. Sunira, like most women – no, like all working, thinking, harried women – is neglecting her family. Two words: self-esteem. Or make-up.
When Sunira leaves for work at 5:30 in the morning does she remember her smile lotion? her happiness foundation? her positive outlook? We don’t think so, because her husband has started verbalizing his dissatisfaction. For “verbalizing” read “thrashing.” Sunira feels unloved. She feels ugly inside. You’d almost think her husband was betting on it!
Sunira’s oldest daughter – 8 going on 18! – reads her mother our checklist. Number one: Ten Ab Crunches a Day Go a Long, Long Way! If Sunira could only lose that expanding tire around her waist, a certain Mr Sunira might find a certain Mrs Sunira hotter than a chapatti stove in the middle of August.
But Sunira just tosses and turns at night. Albeit as slowly and inconspicuously as she can, because if the bed creaks or – worse! – if she accidently elbows Mr Sunira in the head, she’s in for a surprise. We all know that a man needs his sleep (if you don’t have a man yet, check out our 25 Tips to Bag the Beast!) and this one doesn’t like being woken up. Not one bit. So when that happens, which seems to be every night, she “gets it.” Sounds hot? It is! There are a few things Sunira can do when she gets it, and this is where we come in. Sunira, have you bought yourself that G-string yet? Black lacy underwear? Edible massage oil? Nair and tweezers? Please consider these purchases on your next trip to the hospital!
Let’s take a quick break here and have a look at Sunira’s name. Did you know that women whose names end in a have the most sex? Sunira, you sly thing!
Sunira’s days are full. After her ab crunches in the dark (you are crunching, right Sunira?), she makes sure to leave out breakfast and bagged lunches for the kids. Good for you, Sunira! Check out our recipes for French Crêpes, Belgian Waffles and Andalusian Eggs Over Easy. The kids will love it! But perhaps Mr Sunira could use something with a little more flava. There’s nothing like wearing a cute number at the breakfast table to whet a manly appetite. Get that dress on, Sunira. Pronto! Even better, have you thought about calling in sick? Life is all about turning that sweatshop into a sweets shop!
Ladies, time to get serious. We’re not going to lie to you, life is complicated. For example, can you really wear Ugg boots in the summer? Honey, if sweat = pheromones… Hello!
Another pressing question was asked by Sunira’s young son on our last visit: Can I hit my wife when I grow up too? Young man, if she’s as cute as your mother, you most certainly can hit on her!
Time for a poll!
Sunira, if it’s Saturday night, do you:
- Quickly take a hot bath.
- Put the kids to bed early.
- Text sweet nothings to Mr Sunira while he’s watching television.
- Call your mother.
Sunira, please don’t tell us you’d call your mother! What man likes to see his wife go crying to his mother in law every time something goes wrong? It just doesn’t inspire confidence, and you and I both know there’s nothing sexier confidence. So next time you see Mr Sunira touching your daughter in a way that makes you panic, remember our LadySita(TM) stress tips. It all starts with the breathing. In. Out. Concentrate on the nostrils. Practice positive visualization. What do you want to see here? Anything’s possible, Sunira.
This is probably a good time to tell you about our Pink Fake It(TM) line of body products. Remember Saturday night? Ladies, not every Saturday night is Saturday night, if you know what we mean. And when you just can’t be the life of the party, the belle of the ball, the diwali debutante, or dance the dance of the seven veils, we have the Pink Fake It(TM) body suit. Wear it just like you’d wear your smile and you’ll see how easily Saturday night becomes Sunday morning.
But before going to bed, Sunira makes sure to fill out another checklist: Do You Want What He Wants When He Wants You To Want It? And then she reads the heart warming story: How I Bounced Back from Brutality and Bought my Own Bandages.
When she’s done, the house is quiet. She folds and puts away and sweeps and lines up her makeup for the next morning (right?). The sweet noises of sleeping children fill her heart. Except, that’s a strange noise, that one. Yes it is. She takes a little peek in her son’s room and he’s sound asleep. She takes a little peak in her daughter’s room and, now, isn’t that funny. There’s Mr Sunira.
Suddenly a screaming Mr Sunira flies out of the room to chase Mrs Sunira, followed by a crying daughter. Sunira is in shock. She can’t find her PinkFakeIt suit and it’s really not the time for LadySita breathing, now is it. But those ten ab crunches a day went a long, long way and her stomach is very, very hard. Sunira runs as fast as she can to the kitchen. Mr Sunira is not far behind, his hand forming a manly fist.
Sunira looks quickly around and the first thing she grabs is that new Martha Stewart carving knife. Perfectly weighted, it makes a lovely arc in the air – we can almost hear it swoosh – and lands with a delicate pouff pastry right in Mr Sunira’s stomach. Quelle cirque du soleil! Talk about cutting to the chase!
Things quiet down after that. Who wants to eat in a messy kitchen, right?
It takes another moment or two before Sunira notices (1) the men in uniform, and (2) the. men. in. uniform. We sincerely hope that she’s read Three Signs He’s Putting You Under Arrest.
Sometimes we get emails asking us difficult questions, like, What is the point of all those polls? Well, we hope that if this story teaches you one thing at all, it’s that polls are the pulse of life. So when Mr Police Officer But You Can Call Me Mr July asks Sunira who she would like to call, she says her mother. And it’s not even Saturday night.
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Leila Marshy has published in Canadian and American journals and a handful of anthologies. Currently, she is editor of The Rover, a Montreal arts and culture magazine. Mostly, though, she's a farmer with well worn billy boots and very dirty fingernails.
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