Not such a hot housewife

WE had a few old friends (male) over on the weekend which is always a hoot, because my husband and I have known these guys for years and they are a lot of fun.

As always, talk turned to the gutter as we went over who was getting what with whom. It was at this point that I learned something about men. They think housewives are all hot hornbags. Well these ones do anyway.

I should explain, two are tradies - a sparkie and a chippie, the other sells domestic air-conditioning units. They spend a lot of time at other people's houses.

They were comparing notes about the jobs they had done where the women of the house were...hot. It seems, according to these guys, that there are a lot of women in Perth who are kinda bored and spend time at home looking hot and flirting with tradesmen and salesmen.

Although none had actually done anything naughty with a hot housewife, there was enough flirting and nudity spotting to keep the boys happy.
Which led me to evaluate myself. Was I not young and okay looking? How come I had never flirted with any tradies or salesmen. Most that come to my house see me in either my pyjamas or tracksuits, dirty hair and some food stains on my shoulder.

I decided it was time to become a hot housewife. Starting now.
SO yesterday I actually showered before 5pm and BLOW-DRIED my hair. Scared the little one half to death as I dont think she had ever seen a hairdryer before.

I chose my clothes carefully. My very tight skinny jeans which I bought in a fit of madness after I had fallen pregnant with the first guy. Big D designer, big price and I had never actually worn them.

My highest, hot, stilettos. Yeah and a white shirt - to hell with the risk of actually staining it. I was wearing white baby.

All was going to plan - until I decided to get those jeans done up.
Note here that I had already put on my shoes - thought it would be easier to bend over and do this before I did up my fly because my tummy is a little......um.....round.

So here I was trying my best to get up my fly, my muffin top getting bigger and muffin-ish-er by the second. I did this teetering around on my high heels. On floor boards, with food scraps on the floor.

Because I am a clown, I also made a silly dance to keep the kids happy. I shouldnt have because I slipped at that moment on a piece of nectarine skin.

OOOOH ouch did it hurt as I twisted my ankle under me and my entire body collapsed.

To add insult to the injury, I then had to lie on the floor and attempt to take my jeans OFF, with two little kids climbing on me and pulling my hair.
After I regained composure and got my body out of those stupid clothes I returned to my uniform of tracksuit pants and a crappy shirt. With my tail humbly between my legs.

The good news is that although I did twist my ankle and it swelled up nice and sore, none of my clothes or shoes are damaged.

But really, I think the whole hot housewife thing is just a myth.

Desperate Housewives has a lot to answer for. Noone really dresses that well just to stay at home - well maybe in the western suburbs they do, but not in East Victoria Park!