 Just in time for Mother's Day, there's a new book
out called My Beautiful Mommy. Is it
a celebration of the beauty of motherhood? No, of course not. This is
America, for heaven's sake. The book
is a way for mothers who are planning to have a little plastic surgery to start
a conversation with their kids about it. In other words, if mommy drops them off
at kindergarten looking flabby and haggard and returns three weeks later
wide-eyed and with breasts that make them want to start nursing again, not to
worry.
According to the author, "Children are very
perceptive." Indeed they are.
I of course, haven't read any of this book, except for this excerpt from
my local paper.
"The girls asks: ‘Why are you going to look
different?'"
"The mom responds: ‘Not just different, my dear -
prettier!'"
I would scowl, but that would mean I'll need some
work done to get rid of the ugly furrows between my brows. Instead, I've written
my own story. I call it "Mommy, What Big Boobs You Have." See what you
think.
Once upon a time, there was a Queen who had twin daughters she loved very
much. These children did not magically appear out of the forest. No, they were
carried around inside the Queen's belly for a total of nine months, three days,
fourteen hours and eleven minutes - not that she was counting. And she breast
fed them both until they were one and a half. She only stopped because the
peasants were beginning to
stare.
Needless to say, the Queen's body was not the same as it was in the old
days, B.C. (before children). How could it? She had been through a lot and with
the kids, she spent all her time cleaning odd wet spots off her clothing and trying to get the princesses
to sit on the throne when nature called.
One day, the Queen was watching her daughters play in the
yard and she noticed a wolf on the edge of the forest. She sent the girls inside
the castle, but then returned to her patio. The wolf did not whistle. In fact,
he didn't even seem to notice she was there, no matter how far back she threw
her shoulders or how many times she licked her
lips.
This made
the Queen very sad. And mad. So she pulled out her cell phone and dialed her
BFGM (Best Fairy Godmother), Hilda. Having just gotten done with her Bingo game,
Hilda appeared magically on the front steps of the Queen's
castle.
"I want to
look beautiful again," the Queen lamented, not even offering Hilda a nice cup of
tea or an overpriced bottle of water.
Hilda, you should understand, was a matronly sort who
preferred orthopedic shoes and skirts with elastic waistbands because she found
she was a lot less grumpy when her feet didn't hurt and she didn't have to hold
in her stomach. She wore her gray hair in a ponytail and used a pair of thong
panties as a scrunchie. Hilda tried to reassure the Queen of her good looks.
"You're just as pretty as you ever were," Hilda told her. "You're just older
now."
This was apparently the wrong thing to say. "I don't want
to look older, I want to look twenty-something. I want Prince Charming to stare
at me instead of that damn Little Mermaid. She doesn't even have legs, but he
can't take her eyes off her."
Eventually, the Queen wore down her fairy godmother with
her incessant whining. And with a swish of her wand and some made-up-on-the-spot
mumbo jumbo, Hilda performed her magic. Suddenly the Queen had tight skin across
her belly, a smooth and wrinkle-free face, permanent eye-liner tattooed on her
lids, and perky DD boobs that bounced when she walked. Oh, and let's not forget
that her butt no longer looked like she was smuggling bags of peas in her
undies. The Queen twirled in front of the mirror, happy with the new improved
look.
"Well, I gotta go," Hilda said. "The Red Hat Society has
invited me to test drive their new Harley." And poof, she was
gone.
A
few hours later when the Queen went
to pick up her daughters from royal daycare, they didn't know who she was. They
screamed and screamed. "Stranger danger! Stranger danger!" It was very loud
since it was in stereo.
The daycare teachers didn't recognize her either and
called the royal police, who put
the Queen in jail for attempted kidnapping. And when Prince Charming was
summoned to release her, he had no idea who she was and left her
there.
In
the end, the Queen spent many many long years behind bars where there were no
mirrors. Prince Charming married the Little Mermaid, who was perfectly content
as her scales began to flake off as she got older. She raised the two princesses
to love themselves just as they are OR ELSE.
When she finally got out of prison, the Queen, now
tattooed and with a harshness to her, not to mention, droopy double D's swaying
with each step she took, saw herself for the first time in years as she passed a
store window. As she stared at her reflection, she finally understood that her
vanity had led to her undoing. She was ready to go home to her husband and
children and beg their forgiveness.
Then the big bad wolf came along and had her for
dinner.
The end.
Yep, I like that story much better. Please feel
free to share it with your kids (and your
mothers).
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Quirkee Voices 
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