American Housewife

Well, I've officially quit shopping for clothes in Westport.

No one stocks my size.

The only shirt that buttoned up was a men's extra large,

and I'm pretty sure it's a pajama top.

So now I buy all my clothes online from a store in Kansas,

because in Kansas...

I'm a medium.

Ah, Kansas. Wonderful state.

Their official bird is a western meadowlark, I believe.

Fun fact, babe... You just killed my shirt buzz.

So you working today?

I'm writing an article I am so excited about.

I don't want to jinx anything,

but I'm 100% sure this will get me tenure.

100% guaranteed.

That is so exciting! What's the article about?

The title of the article is...

"John Stuart Mill: Victorian Liberalism

and the Fallacy of the Harm Principle."

Sometimes when you say things,

I just pretend that your hair catches on fire.

Make fun if you must, but history is huge right now.

JSM could be the new "Hamilton."

- Are you ready? - I'm ready.

Begin the ritual.

Before Greg can write, he has to do this ritual.

If we were rich, it'd be eccentric.

We're not, so it's just weird.

First he poses like Wonder Woman for two minutes

to raise his testosterone,

then he listens to jazz to activate his right brain.

Next he eats six almonds for energy.

And finally, he has a glass of port to loosen up.

Now you're in the prose zone.

Sometimes I worry Greg's too good for me,

then I remember moments like this.

Oh, Katie!

The hair, the rack, the shirt...

I don't know which to compliment first.

- The rack. - Yes.

Thank you.

I'm feeling really good about my purchase,

but I still have some residual Westport hate.

I can sue those shops on Main Street

for discrimination, right?

Fat lives matter and whatnot?

Okay, labeling tiny clothes as large is evil,

- but it isn't grounds for a lawsuit. - Doris, what do you think?

- Uh-huh. Sue all the lesbians. - What?

Katie, do you have any plans for this expired turkey?

Doris, you are rich. You can afford new food.

Yeah, but I hate waste.

This is sealed,

and sealed meat is good for 11 years, like a Twinkie.

You know what I love about you?

You say nonsense with such authority.

Good morning, ladies.

Hey.

Are you drinking scotch?

Beside the fact that you're 12, it's not even noon yet.

It's just iced tea.

I'm practicing my power swirl

for when I'm a trader at Goldman.

Of course.

Maybe you're confused on how a dishwasher works,

because I get it. It's tricky.

Step one... put the dishes in the dishwasher.

End of steps.

Mom, I'll get around to it, all right?

Unh-unh.

When your mother tells you to do something, you do it immediately.

Ooh, if I was your mom...

But you're not, though, okay?

Ah, the look. Every mom gets it.

Doris is imagining

choking Oliver to death with her bare hands.

Now she's remembering jail is a thing,

so she shoves the rage down

and saves it for when someone thinks she's Japanese.

Let's just avoid any bloodshed.

Hey, who put all these juices in your meat drawer?

I did.

At soccer practice,

Emily said she had the best juice the other day.

Em's the goalie, and her stories are always super funny.

So then Ashley... Ash is the equipment manager...

and she's awesome.

Her clothes are so cool, and her hair is like...

You tell stories just like your dad.

Get to the point.

The soccer team is doing a juice fast together.

A juice what?!

A juice fast is when you don't eat for a couple...

I know what a juice fast is.

Put down the juice and pick up an ice-cream sandwich now!

Mom, you can't make me eat dessert.

Keep this up and I will make you eat a sleeve of Oreos for breakfast.

That's legal! I've checked.

Today's my art show!

Sweetie, I'm excited for you, but Daddy is working,

and Daddy has this ritual,

and whenever somebody interrupts it,

well, then he just has to start it all over again.

I had my art teacher e-mail you my drawing,

so print it out.

Okay, well, Daddy has to write to get this thing called tenure.

The saying goes, "It's publish or perish."

Perish is the word in all my Titanic books.

It means die.

Are you gonna die?

Never.

Well, eventually, but not for a long time.

Am I gonna die?

Let's just print it out.

- Yay! - Yeah.

My assignment was to draw a family portrait,

and tonight it'll be on display for everyone to see.

Is that the way you drew Mommy?

Mm-hmm.

Um...

It's just a juice fast.

It's not like we made a pregnancy pact

like the basketball team in Norwalk.

- Whoa. - First of all,

you are never going to Norwalk again,

and, yes, this juice fast is a huge deal!

When I was your age, I wasn't juice-fasting.

I was protesting Prince's name change

- and smoking clove cigarettes. - Yeah.

Don't smoke. That's a horrible example.

Katie, can I talk to you for a sec?

Not now, Greg. I'm about to say something important,

and I'm glad that both of my daughters can listen.

Taylor, Anna-Kat, look at Doris, Angela, and I.

Notice we all have very different body types.

And all women's bodies are beautiful.

Yes, we get it. You love the lady flesh.

- Doris, children. - Oh, please, they know.

You do not need to do anything to be beautiful except this.

Be proud of your own body

and never, ever care what anybody else thinks.

Don't give in to the vanity of this town,

and you, my lovely daughters,

will always be perfect.

I crushed that.

I was like Winston Churchill in there.

Better than Churchill.

I'm better than Churchill.

It was an excellent speech.

Now, I want you to remember that and don't overreact

when you see Anna-Kat's drawing for her art show.

Oh, my God. Look at me.

Remember, the crayon adds 10 pounds.

"Because of his friendship with Auguste Comte,

John Stuart Mill's effect on positivism

cannot be understated."

I am on fire.

My oldest daughter is juice-fasting,

probably because she's afraid she's going to be fat like me.

- Meanwhile, my favorite child... - Can't rank them like that.

...draws me like a beach ball with gloves.

Is this how Anna-Kat sees me?

It's really not that bad.

Says the guy with broad shoulders

and a full head of hair.

Well, I've been taking the stairs more

and experimenting with mousse.

Maybe that's what she's picking up on?

It's a drawing of a 7-year-old.

You can't take it that seriously.

I am not the problem. The Westport mommies are.

Tonight they're gonna whisper about me and laugh

and walk by me and they'll be nothing but like,

"Hi, Katie!"

And their stupid fake smiles.

I'm not sure I can handle it.

But you just told our daughters

not to care what other people say...

I remember the speech, Greg!

Why don't you go down to the art center?

Ask Anna-Kat's teacher

if she'd be willing to swap out the drawing for another one.

Can I do that?

I can do that. Excellent idea.

Why can't you think like this

when you're deciding what to write about?

Taylor, I'm heading out.

Dad's posing like Wonder Woman, so you're in charge.

Heat up some leftovers for Oliver and Anna-Kat.

Mom, uh, I-I'm not allowed to make lunch

after the soup-can incident.

Oliver! What did you do?!

You know, I could stay and make the kids lunch if you want.

You don't mind?

Yeah, it'd be my pleasure.

What about your kids?

They're fine.

They're overachieving as we speak.

I'm watching you.

Mom, don't be so naive.