They would have us believe our lives would be perfect if we buy their stuff.
I’m talking about advertisements. The women are beautiful, the men are hunks, their houses are spotless, and their children are well behaved. Pure fantasy.
They show a convertible and lead us to believe that if we buy one, we will look like the gorgeous woman they show, with her hair blowing gently in the wind. When the car stops, every hair is in place, the makeup’s perfect, she smiles serenely, and men flock from far away. Her life is perfect.
Well, let me tell you sister, I’ve driven in a convertible, and there’s nothing gentle about the wind. By the time I got to where I was going, huge hunks of hair were stuck to my lipstick, and the rest looked like Phyllis Diller’s. The men were running for cover. And I was not smiling.
One commercial has us believing that if only we used a certain bath oil bead, we could enjoy the luxury of a long relaxing soak. No one would interrupt us. Our children would behave. Our lives would be perfect.
The last time I tried to take a bath, within minutes my husband was yelling through the door, “Honey, do you know where I can find the file on our home insurance?” You know, one of those questions that would require me to actually go look for it.
Then my son was next, saying, “Mom, I need you to sign some papers!” It’s amazing that nothing can wait when Mom is taking a bath.
On television, the kids never have cavities, they always do what their moms tell them to do, and they make good grades because they’re hooked on phonics.
The animals always like the food they’re fed, the laundry always come clean, and the shampoo they’re advertising makes us think that we, too, can look like six-foot-tall models with long flowing hair if we use their product.
Well, I’ve bought a lot of different shampoos in my life, and I’m still short, my hair still frizzes up when it gets really humid, and it doesn’t grow any faster.
And my dog still doesn’t like most of the food I give her.
She’s really a pretty boring dog. She can’t jump six feet in the air to catch a Frisbee, and she has never, ever, gone to the kitchen to fetch me a drink while I’m watching TV. She can’t even talk.
The mom on television announces to her family that she has made Hamburger Helper and they all cheer. My family boos.
The mom on television spills ketchup on her floor, and the camera zooms in to show the spill. This floor is sparkling. There are no dust bunnies, there are no old splash marks on the cabinets, and there are no scuffmarks anywhere. The only thing wrong with this woman’s floor is a little ketchup. As if.
Two very special paper towels cleaned up the mess for her. In my house, if I tell my kids to clean something up with paper towels, (a) they use half the roll, (b) they end up smearing more that cleaning, and (c) the splash marks on the cabinets are still there.
I can’t believe that these new paper towels I bought didn’t make my kitchen perfect like the one on the commercial.
Well, I’m going to go try out this weed eater we just got. The picture on the box makes it look like my grandmother could do it … and in the commercial it starts with the first pull of the chord.
And if you believe that, I’ve some beach-front property in Arizona …
