Grape Nuts - Sexism for Breakfast

Ho hum, another morning of servile drudgery cleaning up my husband's shit. I'm sure glad it's 1958. It was either live a slave's life as a housewife or become a nurse. Dum de dee dee daaaa.
Wash and iron shirts. Check. Saddle soap his golf bag. Check. Gather up the golf balls and put them back in their... wait a second. If I were a clever and slightly mischevious woman, I could have a little fun here by pretending it's not the Eisenhower administration and imagine I'm playing golf like a person with free will might do!
 Oh, but I can't. I'm only a woman, and therefore my only birthright is a life of servile drudgery cooking and cleaning for my husband. I mustn't touch his golf clubs or he'd... Hey! I had Grape Nuts this morning! I feel sort of like I'm full of energy (and many shattered tooth fragments from tying to chew the stuff), but mostly energy! I feel like having a little fun. I think I'll imagine that my vacuum cleaner is a golf club and bop a few balls around the bedroom here. That'll be a hilarious twenty seconds! Thanks to Grape Nuts!
Oh, that was a decadent good time. If only I had the right to actually own golf clubs or leave the house long enough to play a round of real golf! Sigh. But this can never be. I'm only a woman. Ah well. Back to my happy, tiny life filled with screaming babies and filthy mopwater. I can't wait for my husband to come home and gobble the food I prepared while hardly noticing what it looks like. And after that, I can't wait to sit on the opposite end of the couch and watch whatever he wants on TV, while enjoying his cigarette smoke and sewing up holes in his socks. I'm so glad it's 1958. This is the best time to be alive ever.


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