“What was The Good Typist thinking about today?”, you were no doubt obsessively wondering. Well, I’m going tell you straight up what I was thinking about. I was thinking about how much I despise chocolate commercials. Specifically, the genre of chocolate commercials that utilize this ridiculous yet pervasive plotline:
Montage of a slim white woman in a tailored suit, dropping off her children, then rushing around a big office nodding her approval at things, clapping her staff encouragingly on the back, talking on the phone with reading glasses on while scrutinizing a graph, etc. Suddenly the light softens and dims. The camera zooms in on a bowl of pre-wrapped chocolates, then back to the woman’s eyes, which have gone all dreamy. Then, a close-up of chocolate-consumption foreplay: the woman reverentially unwraps the chocolate, gazing upon it with dewy desire. Then finally, the money shot as she slowly takes the first, orgasmic bite, usually leaning against a wall, limp with the overwhelming pleasure that this minuscule treat provides her. As we watch the woman staring softly into space, a small, secretive smile on her face, The Voiceover begins: “For all you do for others, you deserve this moment. A moment of luxury and pleasure. A moment to enjoy (Insert Name of Shoddy Supermarket Chocolate Brand Here.)
Everything about these commercials annoys me, from the pre-wrapped servings (portion control, ladies! If they weren’t wrapped, we all know you’d snarf down the whole bag), to the over-the-top yet lady-like expressions of “pleasure” on the actress’s face (chocolate orgasms must be appropriately dainty), to the implication that thirty seconds alone eating a tiny square of third-rate chocolate constitutes adequate self-care for women who are all things to all people 24/7. The underlying message is, “It’s okay for you women to enjoy yourselves, as long as it doesn’t inconvenience anyone, make you fat, or mean that you stop serving everyone else’s needs for any length of time.”
That’s my gripe for the week. It’s Sunday and there are dishes to do and bathtub tile to clean. I’m going to grab myself a Ghiradelli square and get back out there!
Post-Script Bonus Irritant: Women Laughing Alone with Salad.