American Housewife

They say one day a meteor will strike the Earth,

obliterating life as we know it,

but it's not coming soon enough to help me.

You see, my neighbor, Fat Pam,

is giving up and moving to Vermont.

She's had enough of the skinnies in this town,

and once Fat Pam is gone, I am going to be the s...

Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey!

Anna-Kat! Do not pee in the yard!

Mom, I've thought about it,

and I refuse to participate

in the school food drive on principle.

And what principle is that?

Westport homeless people have better stuff than we do.

Nude Norman rides a bike that's worth more than our car.

And when he does wear clothes,

they're Ms. Halloran's cashmere hand-me-downs.

It's a little thing called charity, Oliver.

It's the worst thing for him.

Nude Norman isn't gonna get a job

if it's open season on free cans of creamed corn.

I'm not gonna lie to you...

We boned it pretty bad with this one.

Oliver has one goal in life... to be rich.

And it sure doesn't help that we're living

here in Westport, Connecticut.

It's the kind of town

where people have big houses and tiny butts,

where every idiot has a boat and a Labradoodle.

I'll make it easy for you.

Here's a Labradoodle on some idiot's boat.

Then there's us... We're renters.

We're here because Westport has a great public school

with special programs for our Anna-Kat...

I'm getting great at peeing outside.

Dry socks.

Who just might need a little extra help.

Anna-Kat has a touch of the anxieties.

Not Rain Man anxiety,

but it's not in the family newsletter.

Clean.

She's my favorite.

That's right... I said it.

I said it in my head.

You need to read my report and check my work.

Yeah. No.

I was in the charge of the Trail of Tears diorama,

which I nailed.

The solar system project is all Dad.

Upstairs.

My husband Greg, at rest in his natural habitat.

Mommies of the world, I ask you...

what would happen if we all took

a leisurely half-hour dump every morning?

What about the plops?

I don't want to hear any plops.

Easy-peasey chicken squeezie.

Lemon squeezie.

I can still hear!

Now, don't come out until you get those signed.

Breakfast, Taylor.

This is Taylor, my oldest,

whose life has been one, long awkward phase

until last Thursday when the Boob Fairy

paid her a visit.

I used to look like that.

Let's see what she looks like after three kids.

Morning, Mom.

She's growing up so fast.

How are you stocked for feminine things?

I'm stocked.

And I really don't want to hear

"another one of your bled-through-my-pants" stories.

Hey, my mother never talked to me about any of this stuff.

I spent half of sixth grade

with a sweat sock in my underpants

convinced I was dying.

Yeah, that's a lie.

It happened to this Pakistani girl I used to know

who was raised by her grandfather.

Would now be a good time to ask for a pet owl?

I don't know if there's ever a good time for that.

Tell your mom thanks for sending you in here

for this quality daddy-daughter toilet time.

Okay, Daddy.

Anna-Kat, close the door, honey.

Close the door, baby.

Anna... Ah, forget it.

Oh, Fat Pam, why are you abandoning me,

my jolly, plus-sized, ham-ass neighbor?

Oh, God. Here comes Nude Norman.

Hi!

He's not naked.

Yeah, well, to be fair to him, it was only that one time.

Oh!

For the love of all things, where was I?

Oh, yes.

Once Fat Pam is gone, I am going to be

the second-fattest housewife in Westport.

Damn you, Fat Pam.

Have a good day, sweetie.

Remember how Dr. Ellie taught you

to do that little secret thing with your fingers

to relax yourself?

Try that today.

- Okay, Mommy. - Okay.

Mwah.

Bye.

Oh, God help her.

Ugh. Westport mommies.

Flat stomachs, tight, high asses,

thighs that don't touch,

and those stupid green drinks.

Hi!

- Mwah! - Mwah!

Oh, great.

Not only is Taylor growing up,

but she's growing up to be one of them.

My full-time job is to make sure

two of my kids fit in less and one fits in more.

Oh, Katie!

Hi!

You have something on the back of your shirt.

That's pizza.

I thought it came out in the wash.

How did you get a pizza stain on the back of your shirt?

Honest answer?

I was either wearing it backwards when I ate the pizza,

or I'm wearing it backwards now.

Yeah, now.

I love you, Katie.

You're so real.

"You're so real" is Westport Mommy Code

for "You shouldn't be eating that or driving that,

and I saw you unbutton your pants at that stoplight."

Thanks, Suzanne.

Bye.

What do you say, bitches?

Second breakfast?

Yes.

Celeste never even wanted to carry a child.

I'm the one whose genitals took one for the team... twice.

And yet, now she's fighting me

for the last vial of our family sperm.

Enough about me and my bitter lesbian divorce.

Well, I've got some news.

Pam just put her house on the market.

Fat Pam? Rich Fat Pam?

She's moving to Vermont.

And I'm going to be

the second-fattest housewife in Westport.

- Mnh. Not possible. - No way.

Okay, there's Evelyn. The biggest.

- Thank God for Evelyn. - Yeah.

Name another woman around here fatter than me.

- Oh, my God. - Katie.

The women around here are freaks.

There's nothing wrong with you.

You're beautiful and amazing.

And they're just totally giving...

What the hell is that woman over there wearing?

Is that a Fitbit?

Uh, yeah. That's a Fitbit.

But she's wearing two of them.

Yeah, she is. One on each wrist.

I literally cannot conceive of a reason

why a person would need to wear two Fitbits.

When did it become okay for women our age

to do nothing but diet and work out?

It's all those damn fools do.

It's completely absurd

and a total waste of feminine energy.

I object to it deeply and on every level.

On every level.

Do you know what you are, Katie?

- You're a revolutionary. - Mm-hmm.

Half the women in this country are over a size 14,

and they're made to feel bad about themselves.

Who came up with the idea that a mother of three

should have an ass like a 19-year-old?

Oh, you have a great ass, Katie.

Like a couple of ripe cantaloupes in your pants.

Thank you. I know.

I'll tell you one thing...

I'm not going on some stupid diet.

Greg pretty much wants to have sex with me all the time anyway.

I'm not really interested

in giving him any added incentives.

Sex on a full stomach after midnight

against my will?

Uh-huh.

You have to sit next to me while I watch "Castle"

and let me talk about Nathan Fillion's hair.

I told you that makes me feel self-conscious.

His hair is so lustrous.

Oh, we're talking two full episodes

if I don't make you wear the sleeping mask.

You know I love the way you look.

I ate something weird.

Mmm.