I am going to admit something that will make you want to punch me in my saggy boob.
I used to look at you from behind my corporate desk and think you spent hours doing yoga.
This isn't a farfetched conclusion because when spotted in your natural habitat (Target on a weekday afternoon), you were clad in yoga gear looking incredibly jacked.
When I signed on to join the SAHM club I anxiously awaited my Mom Yoga pass. I was nervous because I detest yoga, but it seemed like a requirement of the position. I was ready.
Months have passed and still I wait for my pass, yet frequently I find myself in Target on a Tuesday afternoon in yoga gear looking pretty strong.
"How is this remotely possible?" you ask.
Oh, it's possible because being a SAHM is like being a DAMN COAL MINER.
I've never mined coal, but I've seen enough of the dads on Teen Mom talk about the mines to be able to understand what it's like.
|Into The Mine We Go!|
First off, coal miners don't care about their appearance because SURVIVAL is the name of the game. Zippers, snaps, and "dry clean only" garments will slow you down in the event of a very possible explosion.
You may believe that mining explosions are much more dangerous than the ones I encounter, but don't judge until you've experienced a diaper blowout at 5000 feet or pushed a cart through the grocery store while your son screams for "crack" (crackers) and you sprint to the loading dock exit lest child protective services is in the next aisle. The coal miners and I need breathable cotton to survive the everyday.
Secondly, like my friends in the mine, I am pretty jacked because I engage in MANUAL LABOR for 12 hours a day.
Bending, lifting, cleaning, wiping, running, and chasing now take up a day formerly filled with motionless, yet strangely exhausting, corporate strife. Don't believe staying at home compares to backbreaking mine work? Here's a True Life story to prove it:
My husband has a Nike fuel band that uses magical wizardry to give him
daily "fuel points." On days that he works out and then
has a regular office experience, his number is around 4000.
When I went away for a weekend my husband had to
care for the baby which meant working out didn't fit into the schedule.
His fuel points on those days without working out?
Analogy proven! Yes, I realize this would be a stronger case were my husband a miner during the week, so I've got a few more salient points. Read on.
Thirdly, like a coal miner I engage in work that is FREQUENTLY LOOKED DOWN UPON.
Let's all just agree that outside of Teen Mom, mining is the opposite of an aspirational career choice.
And oh, whatever, you would never judge a woman for her choice. I was, and still am, a Judgy McJudgerson. I rolled my eyes from my little ivory tower of corporate excess and thought things like, "She stays home? What? Can she not read?" and then laughed at my own wit.
Note: I am not making a social statement about the literacy of our coal mining population. It is purely coincidental that I used to say this and now live like a coal miner.
Lastly, the miners and me (Yes, I should use "I" instead of "me" but I like the alliteration of "miners and me" so don't start thinking I am one of those SAHMs I thought couldn't read) do a job that is UNDERPAID.
I know the Teen Mom dads are thrilled about "good mining money," but I'm guessing they are not adequately compensated for staring down death since nary a miner makes the Forbes "Richest People on the Planet" list.
Like the miners, I am not paid enough but, unfortunately, am aware of my sad economic plight. I think I should be paid triple my former salary because my valuable brain cells are being replaced with every verse of "The Wheels On The Bus." I would like to be compensated for bravely staring down the death of my brain.
So, SAHMs (& Dads), what do you have to say for yourselves? Pickaxes where yoga pants were promised? You're the ones who should be punched in your saggy boob.
This is the most egregious case of false advertising I've seen. I'm calling the FTC. The gig is up.