Dear Yuppie Moms

Dear Yuppie Moms,
I’m sorry. I truly am. To go through life, giving voice to every trivial thought that passes through your mind? It sounds excruciating. But I guess that’s part of the arrangement, isn’t it?
There’s no way you can possibly know that your sole purpose of churning out babies and endlessly cooing over them is no way to live your life.
It seems like I should clarify at this point that this is not directed towards mothers of all kind or even housewives. This is a very specific type of woman I have a problem with. Hell, if it was something you kinda kept to yourself or did quietly, it wouldn’t be much of a problem either.
The problem is that you insist on bugging the rest of the world with it.
It isn’t just the endless discussion of playdates and birthdays (by the way, kudos to the woman who, after a few moments’ debate, realized that May 9 is indeed before May 29) but the pack mentality.
Seriously, if I didn’t see so much shallow and vapid discussion, I would think world domination might be a serious threat.
Still, let’s aim a little higher when it comes to discussion topics, shall we? Oh, and if you could avoid discussions of “poopy diapers” in establishments that serve food, I’d really appreciate it. Thanks


4 thoughts on “Dear Yuppie Moms

  1. I love this. I live in a town full of yuppy moms. They camp out in the coffee shop where I USED to enjoy sitting and writing. It’s now full of strollers and velour track suits and surrounded by Mercedes SUVs. So, thank you for so eloquently stating what the rest of us are thinking!

    • Yeah, when did wearing velour in public become acceptable again?
      You just gotta stake your turf! Don’t back down! haha
      Thanks for reading!

  2. The conversation is vapid. And I swore I’d never be one of them. When your kids are little it’s your whole world and there really isn’t much else to talk about. BUT…the whiny, yuppie, competitive mommy bullshit is out of control. It’s the gross progression of selfish, self-centered people growing up. Having children should unspoil us, as in “its not about me anymore.” Fat chance.

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