Sex and the City of Naperville

Two days ago, I was one of those women. Those women who thought they could have it all. My name is Hilary Decent. Week after week my girlfriends were my salvation. Three weeks, and three successful columns in the Naperville Sun later, they were my meal ticket. (Assuming a small bag of chips constitutes a meal).
So there we were, four highly successful women, meeting the heart of the city of Naperville.
We met at the fashionable hour of 5.46 p.m. There was Buffy, the perky blonde whose hair is never out of place, even when she shakes her head. Venus, the sporty one, on one hand a caring mom, on the other, an engineer succeeding in a man’s world. Ruby Nesk, the lively Titian haired librarian who the public are always trying to shush. And bringing up the rear, me, the short, dumpy one with comfortable Naturaliser sandles, and a delicate little purse so crammed full of stuff it wouldn’t close.
Outside the city of Naperville roared past. The city we all love. The city where you can’t run out of a building and hail a cab because there aren’t any. The city full of chic restaurants. There’s nowhere on earth more classy than Potbelly, I always think. The city where the stores are bursting with designer clothes, which unfortunately I burst out of whenever I try any of them on.
At the heart of the city flows the river. At it’s tip, the iconic statue that connects Naperville to the rest of the world - Walter and Grace Fredenhagen, owners of the property which was the original site of Prince Castle and Cock Robin Ice Cream.
“This is so fun,” I say to the girls. “Here we are with successful careers and living in the best city in the world. Yet we still find time on a Saturday night to get together for dinner and a movie.”
“It wasn’t easy,” Venus replies, idly thumbing through the menu. “I’ve been on call all day. Problems at work. I’m exhausted. I’m so hot I can’t even get my new super expensive face cream to stay on!”
We nod sympathetically. That’s why I stick to Crisco.
“Well at least we can relax now,” says Ruby before we all shush her. Force of habit, I’m afraid. “What are you drinking? Is anyone up for a Brazilian Wax?”
“What? Here? I know it’s a trendy Naperville restaurant, but really?”
“No, silly, it’s a cocktail,” she replies.
“Oh, in that case I’ll try one,” I say gamely.
“I’ll have a Cosmo,” says Buffy. “I was drinking them before everyone else did.”
A few drinks later, we were giggling wildly and talk turned to my man, the love of my life, Mr Grumpy.
“I wish he would just leave me alone sometimes and go back to his wife,” I confessed.
“But you are his wife,” Venus reasoned.
“That’s why I am drinking. To forget,” I sobbed into my glass.
The city roared just outside our window. We really must find a quieter restaurant next time.
“Has something happened?” asked Buffy, full of concern as usual. “What has he done to you now? You poor girl, have a sip of my Cosmo.”
“He took me to the golf range the other day, so I could practice my swing,” I told them as they moved in, waiting for the juicy bits.
“He..he was so critical,” I said, tears beginning to drip into my drink. I moved it away. No sense in diluting it. “He told me I didn’t look like the other golfers. That I was standing wrong. That…that…I ..I ..was NO GOOD!”
The girls looked aghast as I started sobbing loudly.
“And what makes it worse, is that he has never played a game himself in his life!”
“Men can be so cruel sometimes,” said Ruby, a little too loudly.
She put a comforting arm around me.
“Forget about it now, we have a movie to get to,” she said.
“Yes, we can work on your swing tomorrow,” said Buffy. She never gives up, that girl.
Two hours later, together with 200 other women, we settled down to watch Sex and the City. I’ve never seen such an unrealistic film in my life! A 50-year-old woman lying naked with only sushi to protect her modesty? Surely that should be two dozen hamburgers and a 15” pizza?