This is beginning to look very attractive.At a shoot, the model said, "Oh fuck, I'm wearing a dress? I forgot to shave my legs." She flipped open her phone and said, "Where are you? Get me a razor and I need it now." Five minutes later, a girl appears (I kid you not when I said 5 minutes) with a 7-11 plastic bag with, not one, not two, but three fresh razors (model must be really hairy, eh?).
At another shoot, the stylist had her assistant lug around the bags and clothes and shoes while she walked about the set in her sky-high heels, fresh as a daisy.
At the office, a fellow editor-in-chief had her driver pick up all her bags and folders and bring them to the waiting car where she just slid into the back seat and had the door shut for her and she was whisked away. No, this wasn't Pauline of
Preview.
At a bloggers event, I asked a fellow blogger how she can update her blog three to four times a day, "You have a full-time job, like me. Goodness, when I get home, I still have to do chores." "Chores?" she laughed. "I have a maid."
Watching
Mad Men the other night, I was struck by how they bossed around their secretaries: "Call this guy, make me coffee, pick this up, type this, send that." Or how Betty Draper barked, "Show him the door, take the laundry upstairs, get the kids."
Betty may be the perfect housewife...
... but that's because she has Clara behind the scenes!
That is not my life and it has never been my life. In my job, I xerox my own pages, fill up my own forms, schedule my own meetings, call the people I need to talk to myself and bring my own huge bags. At home, I do my own cooking and cleaning and housekeeping (with a lot of help from Vince who loves to clean!). We don't have a car so I take the bus or the train or the cab or the tricycle. I line up at the bank to pay the bills, the grocery to buy food, the drugstore to refill my prescriptions, the post office to send and pick up packages. I do everything!!!
"No wonder you're so tired," my friends all tut-tut, their beautifully painted faces expressing concern and their perfectly manicured hands patting me sympathetically. I look at my own bare nails, cracked from exposure to detergent and bleach or at my own uncombed hair and wonder if they're right: I need slaves.
Yes. Slaves. Say what you will but Filipinos still have that master-slave mentality. We never pay our help/assistants well enough for the work they do for us. And we never allow them to treat us as equals (be honest!). And that is just a step above slavery. That is why I refuse to have maids or hire an assistant. But these days, I'm really beginning to think I need one. Or two. I need help.
Blair and Dorota have a cute relationship. But I don't know
any Filipino who has a cute relationship with their maids.My idea of heaven now? At work, I can wear heels all day since I'm not running about doing my errands and picking up papers myself. I don't need to worry about heavy bags because someone's sent them to my house already. Then I come home to a clean house, the table set and hot home-cooked food waiting for me. I will eat it then stand up and not think about washing the dishes. Food magically appears at meal times. When I open my closet, freshly laundered and pressed clothes greet me. My shoes are always polished. The rabbits are always clean and fluffy. I can just focus on me and Vince and books and writing... It sounds lovely but I simply can't see myself bossing about another human being.
And this is why I can't imagine having children! I just can't handle anymore on my plate!
Oh, maybe I just need a day at the spa and the salon. I'll feel better after a good massage, a foot scrub, a mani and pedi, a scalp massage, a facial and hot ginger tea... Mmmm.
