I want to become the wife of a polygamist. After the high-profile raid in Texas cast a disapproving light on the Fundamentalist Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints (FLDS), everybody’s got a bone to pick with the polygamists. I, on the other hand, am jealous of their rustic and charming lifestyle. I yearn to live au naturale clad in a strapping turquoise dress with a hand-braided up-do. It’s official—I’m going to join the commune and live a life that’s back to the basics.
1. No Need for a Profession
College, grad school, GREs? Not for me. In the FLDS, I can stop working the nine to five and stop worrying about what the heck I’m doing with my life. As a polygamist lady, my destiny will be pre-determined by our lord and savior, Warren Jeffs. I’ll be hitched by the age of thirteen and start popping out babies ASAP. I’ll be so busy waiting in line for my turn to hump my husband and my nipples will be so sore from breast-feeding my litter of children, I’ll have no time for a career. Plus, I’ll be busy honing my quilting and gardening skills. (I tried to crochet a hat once and it looked like a mushroom.)
2. Prairie Fashion Rocks
It’s exhausting trying to look like Nicole Richie everyday. I’m sick of wasting my paychecks at Chico’s and Claire’s. When I move onto the compound, I won’t have to worry about keeping up with the Parises. I’ll sport my puffy-sleeved, full-length, pastel gowns with my poo-brown lace-up shoes every day. I’m going to redefine sexy in my Little House on the Prairie wardrobe. The president of the FLDS says that the color red belongs to Jesus; women are not allowed to wear red. Hallelujah—red makes me look fat.
3. Nightly Orgies
I’m always down for some sexy-time. In the FLDS, I can get it on with multiple people at the same time. I’ve always wanted to participate in an orgy—screw just a three-way, I’ll be having a ninety-nine way. There will be so many unique orifices for me to stimulate and be stimulated in. True, I’ll have to wait my turn, but after a certain age, it will be a good thing. Married people are always bitching about having to beat cheeks with their husbands anyways. After a certain point, I just won’t have to anymore; my husband will trade me in for a younger version. Then, I’ll be able to fulfill my lesbian fantasies with my co-wives.
4. The Ridiculously Hot Body
Have you seen one fat polygamist chick? No, you haven’t—those broads are skinny as hell. They wake up at 3:30 in the morning to husk corn and cull chicken eggs. When I join the polygamist commune, I’ll say sayonara to Weight Watchers and yoga and hola to wheat germ and harvesting. Between running circles around my twenty-seven children and my nightly orgies, there’s no way I’ll be fat anymore. I’ll be a lean-mean grain-grinding machine.
5. I Can Sport Rockin’ Sausage Curls
Their French twists, voluminous bangs, and intricate braids would make Paul Mitchell proud. These ladies do not mess around when it comes to their hairdos; this is some high-couture hair. When I join the compound, I won’t ever have to cut my hair again—it’s not even allowed. I’ll rise with the sun and have my three-year-old weave my locks into complex up-dos. I can only begin to imagine how useful my Rapunzel-esque hair will be during my nightly group sexcapades …
6. Entertainment Provided by Grassy Pastures
Who needs TV, radio, and Internet? I’m sick of reading the news, watching Grey’s Anatomy, and listening to Mariah’s new record. I really just want to be alone and live a life of seclusion. Laughing is so overrated; it’s such a frigging relief that it’s forbidden on the FLDS compound. Every day I come across dumb people on TV, on the radio, and on the streets, making lame jokes and I’m forced to laugh. Sometimes, it takes more energy to conjure up a chuckle then to microwave my Lean Cuisine. All I really want to do is play alone in the fields.
7. No Need to Find a Date—Jesus Does It for You
It’s so goddamned stressful to get a date. Two-thirds of my brain-power is wasted figuring out how I’m going to get laid. God forbid (or should I say, allow?) considering the idea of marriage. Once I’m a polygamist, I’ll never worry about dating again. My husband will be pre-chosen by Jesus Christ. I won’t have wasted awkward teenage years competing with the Lindsay Lohans of the world. I’ll be hooked, booked, and cooked before I even turn thirteen (if I’m lucky).
I’ll admit that the whole child abuse and forced marriage thing is off-putting, but from the hot hair to the group-sex, it’s an offer I can’t refuse. Hey, Warren Jeffs, where the heck do I get an application?