This, as you no doubt guessed, is TOTALLY me.
They're on to us, girls. The High Beams of Reality have rounded the Blind Curve in the Blogway, and we're caught square on the Grill Work of Public Scrutiny like the Bunnies of Badly Capitalized Similes.
I know. It's like I was reading your minds, huh?
We were doing so well, too. Keeping our perfect little secret all to our perfect little selves. And then this article appeared in Salon.com, about how the writer - a self-proclaimed twenty-something over-educated atheist feminist clavichordist ... um ... lepidopterist ... OK, I really can't remember all the groovy things this gal is, but she's got "ists" out the wazoo - loves reading blogs written my Mormon women. It's very nicely written, and if you squint just so you can pretend that a few of the observations there (like a quote from "G," who says, "I'm just jealous! I want to arrange flowers all day, too!" or the suggestion that "Mormon blogs are an escapist fantasy, a way to imagine a sweeter, simpler life") are well intentioned compliments, and not subtle slams.
She does make it sound like reading Mormon women's blogs is a bit like visiting Disneyland, only to discover someone actually living in Sleeping Beauty's castle.
Of course, in this case, Sleeping Beauty is home-schooling all seven dwarfs and running an online etsy shop where she markets her hand sewn gowns to Belle and the gang. For his part, Prince Wide-Awake Handsome is Elders Quorum president, finishing law school, and using a machete to keep those castle-climbing briars at bay.
I mean, duh. That's exactly how it is. I have no problem with this article, or with the ... let's see ... dodecaphonist who wrote it.
(Note: I'm not what you would call over-educated, but I know what that word means. I wonder if they'll let me back in church next Sunday.)
In fact, I don't have a problem with any of it. The author is pleasant and positive, and I hope she swings by here some time. I think she'd have a lot of fun with all of us and besides, she's totally nut-shelled my life.
But I had to share this one comment with you (posted by jbrockd), because it marks the beginning of the end of the elaborate hoax we've evidently been pulling on the 'real' world for 180 years:
"If you scan those blogs, you will quickly see the professional photography. That strikes me first. But almost as striking is the in-your-face product placement. The large shots of Costco or Ikea. The peppering of links to purchase the professionally photographed clothes and other products.
If their lives seem like a catalog, that's because those blogs are a catalog. I'm not especially savvy, but those are blatant, professionally produced Internet marketing-style product catalogs."
Oh, man. There goes my product placement contract with Mormon Vegas Hotties, which sponsored this professionally produced photo of Kristina and me:
And I guess I have to return all the kickbacks from the makers of Snickers, who I know are going to be totally frosted to learn that this exquisite, amateur rendering of what happens to their product when the First Lady comes to town and makes everyone wait in the Red Rock visitors' center parking lot until she and her entourage finish their club sandwiches back at the Holiday Inn - has now been outed as having been secretly taken by a pro. I may even get sued. Thanks a lot, jbrockd.
Tell me this isn't damn near the finest portrait of Michelle Obama you ever clapped eyes on.
This baby won me my first Pulitzer.
And, jbrockd, you got me dead to rights. Anyone who read this particular post about falling down in public, or this one where I discovered that crushing on Orlando Bloom made me a lesbian, or this more recent post about the way I keep my perfect bod in top form, will tell you we ALL have to submit head shots, resumes, and portfolios before we're allowed anywhere near the gourmet cupcake table.
Now, all kidding aside (Ha! Just kidding. Around here there is no such thing as 'all kidding aside'.) I suppose it's up to me to clarify to the world that, between trying to keep up with the Duggars and regular auditions to join the Sister Wives, we blogging Mormon women simply do not have time to fake our web sites. What you see is what you get. No catalogues. No fantasies. No surreptitious product placement arrangements.
Read enough blogs, you'll see we're just like all of you. Our husbands are occasionally Grumpy. We spend much of our time Sleepy. We're not gonna lie; at one time or another we're convinced all of our children are Dopey. And when allergy season fills my house with six versions of Sneezy or I'm running low on Pristiq, the last thing I'll be is Bashful about cozying up with Doc.
We're also, for the most part, Happy. We don't apologize for that. Feel free to drop by any time for a slice of warm bread (I'll nuke the Wonder, just for you) and a dose of 'positive spin' on the complexities of your lives.
Just, please, remember to wipe your feet before you come into the castle.