Part I: Fifty Shades of Grey… The Stay-at-Home Mom’s Perspective

E.L. James, I gotta say, “thank you,” on behalf of myself and all the other porn-reading mammas out there. Today’s blog shall address the Christian Grey phenomenon, from the perspective of the women behind the author’s multi-million $$$ sales of the series that keeps me up at night, preventing me from being rested enough to care for my kids.

Kids. That’s right: kids. These books are being read by moms from small-town Arkansas (remember “It tastes good…”) to mega-town Manhattanites (stand down, Samantha, Carrie, Charlotte & Miranda) for multiple reasons, including but not limited to:

*Access: Moms everywhere can get a hold of this stuff at their local Barnes & Noble, Half-Priced Books (yeah right, like any momma in the right mind would ever sell this book back 😉 ), library, or book exchange. We can take our kids with us as we peruse the “aisle of Christian” without having to push the 50 copies of Playboy out of the way in search of the single copy of Playgirl, and without the suspicious glances (“Mommy… what is that?) from said kids. We can even secretly purchase it at Amazon.com in paper or e-reader form; and ladies, these books give whole new readership to the Kindle (light-my) Fire and the Nook (ie).

*Age/Reproductive Status: Moms everywhere would love to be twenty-something again. With their pre-baby bodies. And a boyfriend with a shiny, foil-wrapped condom in his pocket at all times. I mean seriously, was Christian ever without in a time of need? More than likely, our husbands carried the same lucky condom in their wallet for a good 2-5 years until it finally disintegrated into a fine powder or was used as a decoration at a college fraternity party. Granted, we may sleep in our husband’s T-shirts like Ana prefers, but we don’t go to the bedroom with a “come hither” look. It’s more a look of, “Don’t touch me, I need my sleep to deal with the children tomorrow, and it’s your fault we’ve already got two” (insert # of children here). We don’t sleep in post-coitus bliss. We sleep in sheer fear of having reproduced again. Birth Control malfunction. (Fifty Shades Freed tee-hee-hee. 🙂 )

*Book Club Fodder: Moms everywhere like to join book clubs so we can get together and have intelligent conversations with other moms and keep our brains from becoming mommy-mush. We certainly can’t get together and discuss the classics every time. Nor do we want to attend and discuss our latest reading of Green Eggs & Ham. Let’s face it, we could join the If you Give a Mouse a Cookie discussion group, or the If you Give Christian a Riding Crop “sub club”. I know which clique I’d prefer to join…

*Fantasy: Moms everywhere can get caught up in the lifestyle that Anastasia Steele slept into. Lavished (flogged) with attention. E-mailed with notes that would make Dr. Ruth blush. Gifted with cars that would get our husbands out of our hair for days on end. Wined on Cabernets far better than I can afford to drink. Dined (on?) at restaurants that don’t have drive-throughs and suspicious-looking breaded chicken particles. And then of course, getting some religion. Of the Christian variety. In general, wooed in ways that just isn’t reality. Some personal pictures might be a better way to explain this:

My reality: I. Am. So. Tired.

Otherwise known as the look that I’m sporting 99% of the time. Dang… I can’t even pretend I’m awake for the benefit of Nate here. And apparently I can’t even make it to the salon before my hair takes on a subtle mullet-like quality. At least I haven’t dropped the baby… yet. My reality does not include joining the mile-high club in my beau’s private jet. My reality includes being crazy ape-shit scared to fly at all with my mis-mannered children. And if I must fly, I make a run to the in-flight bathroom not out of flights of fantasy, but as a valiant attempt to escape the screaming in economy class and lock myself in a 4’x4′ red room of freedom.

Versus

My fantasy: I. Am. MILF.

Otherwise known as my inner goddess and the look I’m sporting 1% of the time. And that’s after $110 worth of professional hair and make-up and the magic of Fort Wayne’s best, Photo Bleu Photography ( http://www.photobleu.com/). I am wearing panties. I am not wearing Manolo Blahniks. The color of the shirt is the same in both pictures, but that’s about it. Well… I guess the wit and sarcasm is still brewing beneath the surface of both pictures. Oh and in the fantasy shot I still have kids, at home, with dad, who can only take about 10 more minutes before he has another mid-life crisis and tries to buy one of those afore-mentioned cars only to have his credit rejected…

*Preparation: Moms everywhere are reading the books in advance of the film(s), so we’ll have a better grasp of  the plot and will better be able to concentrate on the serious eye candy that the casting director better put before us. My mommy friends and I are having a great time chatting about who would best play the delectable Mr. Grey. The reason we can’t seem to think of anyone age-appropriate in the current Hollywood scene seems to be a direct reflection of Age/Reproductive Status above and a sense of creativity that is now caught up in Thomas the Tank Engine track-laying, playing Candyland for the umpteenth time, and re-reading “Go the F**k to Sleep” to our children each night.

And last but certainly not least:
*The Three P’s
: Moms everywhere know that
Porn – Pictures + Plot = Great take-along material for Playgroups, Pools and Pre-Pure romance Parties
Is that eight P‘s? I suppose if I appreciated algebra I’d read Good Will Hunting instead of Fifty Shades Darker

So now that you know the “why” of E.L. James being richer than dirt, for my next installment I shall discuss the “who” of Fifty Shades of Grey. As in, major character studies, plot analysis, and serious spoilers. So if you still haven’t read the books and can keep your panties on, don’t read Part II (coming soon to a parenting blog near you)!

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