Cutting through a park in the high-tone gaijin ghetto a few weeks back, I saw a lot of slim, blonde, tanned ladies pushing strollers. I shuddered and quietly exclaimed to my friend, "Ugh, the ex-pat wives!"
For my cattiness, I received a significant look and I realised that I'm an ex-pat wife, too. I don't think of myself as one, but my husband's job brought us here. I don't work (not so much that I could pay any significant bills, anyway). We have an apartment with an oven. I take art classes during the day. I often meet friends for lunch.
Cripes, I'm a lady who lunches!
THE LADIES WHO LUNCH
--Stephen Sondheim
(spoken) I'd like to propose a toast.
Here's to the ladies who lunch--
Everybody laugh.
Lounging in their caftans
And planning a brunch
On their own behalf.
Off to the gym,
Then to a fitting,
Claiming they're fat.
And looking grim,
'Cause they've been sitting
Choosing a hat.
Does anyone still wear a hat?
I'll drink to that.
And here's to the girls who play smart--
Aren't they a gas?
Rushing to their classes
In optical art,
Wishing it would pass.
Another long exhausting day,
Another thousand dollars,
A matinee, a Pinter play,
Perhaps a piece of Mahler's.
I'll drink to that.
And one for Mahler!
And here's to the girls who play wife--
Aren't they too much?
Keeping house but clutching
A copy of "Life"
Just to keep in touch.
The ones who follow the rules,
And meet themselves at the schools,
Too busy to know that they're fools.
Aren't they a gem?
I'll drink to them!
Let us all drink to them!
And here's to the girls who just watch--
Aren't they the best?
When they get depressed,
It's a bottle of Scotch,
Plus a little jest.
Another chance to disapprove,
Another brilliant zinger,
Another reason not to move,
Another vodka stinger.
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh!
I'll drink to that.
So here's to the girls on the go--
Everybody tries.
Look into their eyes,
And you'll see what they know:
Everybody dies.
A toast to that invincible bunch,
The dinosaurs surviving the crunch.
Let's hear it for the ladies who lunch--
Everybody rise!
Rise!
Rise! Rise! Rise! Rise! Rise! Rise! Rise!
Rise!
Lucky me.
You just gotta' love that Sondheim! I think we're doing "Sweeney Todd" next season. Hooray!
Sweeney Todd is a favorite. I guess you'll be hunting up some barber chairs...maybe they'll decide to set it in the late 50s/early 60s and have a field day with the hairstyles. :-)
Having just recently been out to lunch with a gaggle of expat wives, I would have to say in all honesty, that the differnence between an expat and a non-expat is entirely a matter of attitude, not circumstance. There were women there who were mothers, who had been involuntarily (tho not entirely reluctantly) posted here, and they STILL werent "expat wives". And then there was a whole bunch who, in very stark relief, WERE. You can accuse me of cluching at straws, but I swear, expat is a state of mind.