Finally! A First Lady We Can't Relate To!

Ladies, I don’t know about the rest of you but I am feeling very relieved these days. For the past eight years we’ve had Michelle Obama as a strong, female role model—smart, accomplished, annoyingly healthy. She’s the kind of woman who, minus the smoking hot spouse, a lot of us see ourselves in, she projected the kind of attainability that many of us felt we could actually achieve as human women. Honestly, it’s been exhausting, hasn’t it? But now we have Melania Trump, a woman in, or geographically-not-too-farish-from the White House who is largely unrelatable to about 90 percen of American women. I, for one, feel as if a huge weight has been lifted, which is also what Melania must feel since she scored herself that super sweet “long distance marriage” deal on the tax payer’s dime. No judgment.

I loved Michelle Obama. I did. I still do. I’m not a mom, but if I were I would want to be like her, except minus the kids and definitely plus the smoking hot spouse. She always struck me as level-headed and approachable who didn’t take herself too seriously, but who also didn’t take any mess. Michelle Obama was consistently the number one draft pick for that game me and my girlfriends played of “who would you most want as a bestie?” We agreed that Michelle would fit right into our circle of average women living ordinary lives as social workers and graphic designers. She’d give us insightful advice about our lives, talk us through hard choices, and support our dreams to some day open a pet spa/artisan umbrella shop. And maybe, from time to time, we’d do girls’ night at her place where we’d have the deep conversations, crack crass jokes about the fruit plate, and casually ask, “Does your husband ever play Frisbee with Bo without a shirt? Just curious.”

Michelle Obama made us want to nominally raise our game on every front—our health routines, our career decisions, our hair-care product choices. Frankly, it’s too much. We don’t need to be reminded every time we go online and see you in a video talking about how you started a virtual book club to keep up with your girlfriends and share your love of reading that there are incredibly basic things we can be doing to improve the quality of our lives!

Ordinary women of America, I think we can all agree that it’s hard enough being a relatively basic female person these days without the additional anxiety of trying to keep up with the slightly-better-than-average Michelle Obama.

We can. Thanks, in part, to Melania Trump. I know I’ll never have her flawless skin, the kind that looks as if it were manufactured in a Mattel plant. There’s not a snowball’s chance in Costa Rica that I’ll ever walk a runway in Paris or Madrid. The only modeling I ever contemplated involved a dubious posting on Craig’s List for the foot-related variety. Melania speaks six languages. Six! Each one is internationally recognized as real and not “Dothraki.” I struggle with English and the tongue of my native land: Boston.

Melania and I will never bump into each other at Target. We’ll never do that thing where we realize we’re both wearing 3-day old yoga pants fished out of the bottom of the hamper because some days trying is not an option. I don’t even have to feel bad about not trying for that promotion because I know Melania wouldn’t be disappointed in me. She wouldn’t waste her time with a girlfriendly pep talk about how there’s nothing I can’t accomplish. She knows women can’t have it all, but they can hire people who make it seem that way. Melania is no dummy, choice of life partner aside.

So thank you, Melania. Thank you for getting dragged into our lives by your ethically diminished husband and his cabal of morally lobotomized cronies. Now that I don’t have to aspire to your level of sophistication or cheekbone perfection, I am free to focus on other things like making that Pinterest vision board I keep putting off, perfecting my bathtub wine, or fighting the ruinous and batshit insane policies advanced by your husband and the pack of comic book villains he’s installed in office. It feels good, doesn’t it ladies? It sure does.

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