Wipe Your Feet

I don’t hate Betty Draper. I love her. I think she’s a Capricorn. I admire how she “tr[ies] to be a vegetarian, sometimes.” Sure, she’s kind of distant with her kids — not just the boring boy one, but Sally! — but I don’t blame her. Her form of affection is control and thoughtfully planned gestures. She is the perfect WASP. In 35 years, she will be Lucille Bluth; this is the kind of mature lady I’d like to be. Sporadically cruel, but unpredictably so, and only to people who deserve it. Drinking purposefully, but not necessarily to excess. Dressing in jewel tones and rubbing my nylon-clad feet. Why not? Have you ever drunk a bottle of sherry with a woman like Betty Draper? It’s always a trip. I’ll stand up for old Birdie. I’d probably steal her scalloped potatoes recipe, because it’d probably be da business.