Mystery Science Theater En Masse

Three Riffers, Episode 4: Do Shut Up

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Note: This riffing contains two articles that were written by Samantha Brick:

-Independence? A career? Who needs them! A husband who prizes your looks, not your mind is the key to a happy marriage
-Why women hate me for being beautiful

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Independence? A career? Who needs them! A husband who prizes your looks, not your mind is the key to a happy marriage

James: Christ, did the title have to be that long?
Emi: Oh, I'm not looking forward to this.
Juri: This is coming from the girl who worships her master at every beck and call?
Emi: *narrows her eyes* That is entirely false, and you know it, Miss... Juri.
Juri: *smirks* Yeah, yeah.

My husband sets me a £250 allowance each month for my wardrobe, I ask his permission before booking a hair appointment and discuss with him what I will have done.

James: See what happens when Stephenie Meyer's and E.L. James's shitty novels are worshipped? You get this crap right here.

He even has an opinion — which I adhere to — on how I dress and what I weigh. He prefers I wear classic ladylike attire and, at 5ft 11in, he insists I tip the scale at no more than 10½ stone.

Emi: That also amounts to 147 pounds or 66.67 kilograms for those who are curious.
James: He. He. He. All about what he wants. Lady, if that doesn't sound like a controlling relationship...

In fact, he’s there when I weigh myself.

Juri: Looks like someone's got a kink for those daddy things.

At this point, many of you will be thinking I’m little more than a trophy wife for my husband, Pascal, and you’re right. I am a trophy wife — and what’s more, I’m proud of it.

James: Hate to be a jerk here, but... why?
Emi: I would say that it was for the free money... but there's that allowance thing.

Pascal has built up a very successful business, he earns more than I do and I’m lucky enough not to need to bring a salary into the home, though I still work part-time to keep my wits about me.

Pascal is a Frenchman with particularly traditional views. He is a decade older than me and unashamedly tells people he chose me for my looks. But that doesn’t make me a designer-clad airhead who’s only interested in getting my hands on his cash.

Juri: Uh-huh. Sure.

People disapprove of relationships like ours because they assume love doesn’t enter the equation — that our marriage is merely an exchange of commodities: my youth and good looks for his wealth. They couldn’t be more wrong.

Emi: But you just said that he chose you because of your looks. Of course people would assume that there's no love in it!

Whatever else the naysayers may throw at us, I’m comfortable with my trophy-wife status for two reasons: Pascal and I are deeply in love and I adore being treated like a princess.

James: Yet you're constantly being magnified as if you were a child. *shrugs* Hey, whatever works for you.

And even in these egalitarian times, many people enjoy this kind of marriage — even if most are shy of the ‘trophy wife’ tag.

Juri: I'm not going to be a trophy anything.
James: *mutters* Wait'll Jess and I have your head hung as one.
Juri: What was that?!
James: *calmly* Nothing.

Donald Trump, Harvey Weinstein and Rod Stewart are known for their clout in their fields and for their choice of younger, attractive wives: Melania Trump, Georgina Chapman and Penny Lancaster respectively.

Emi: Probably because they have... money? Honestly, if they had no money, I'm pretty sure that they wouldn't have wives like that.
James: Didn't Trump file for bankruptcy three or four times now?
Juri: Prep your ass. You're now gonna be sued by him.

These are smart women, just like me,

James: *snickers*
Emi: Mr. Daniels...
James: Sorry.

who are more than a decade younger than their other half. They staunchly support their husbands and, in return, receive a wonderful lifestyle.

Juri: It's the only way to keep their blood diamonds, after all.

Reading all this, it might surprise you to learn I started out as a strident career woman.

All: Say what?

My formative years were during Thatcher’s Eighties. Being a kept housewife was out; becoming a financially independent career girl was in.

I even found myself a younger, prettier husband — one who earned less than I did.

James: *sarcastically* Oh, that peasant!

At the time of my first marriage, in my early 30s, I was working as a successful TV boss on a six-figure salary and turning over millions of pounds each year. I wore the trousers in the office and at home, and enjoyed it — for a while.

Emi: Maybe the trousers didn't show off her legs.
Juri: Pretty sure they'd be called "shorts".

Inevitably, when you earn more than your husband, the financial responsibilities fall on your shoulders.

Juri: Well, duh! That's why I mooch off of that fool Bison!

I asked him to pay the mortgage one month and he agreed only after I assured him I would pay him back within the week. I paid for the running of our home, forked out for our holidays and it was even left to me to fund our wedding and honeymoon.

But I knew I had to get out of the relationship when I found myself writing cheque after cheque for all of our outgoings. It wasn’t the money that upset me, I just found it deeply unattractive to have a man so dependent on me. Having our roles reversed in that way — me as the breadwinner, he the part-time worker — meant my respect for him evaporated and so, eventually, did my love.

Emi: So... trophy husbands are horrible, but trophy wives are okay? Are you joking, ma'am?
James: I sure hope that this whole thing is a joke.

I was in my mid-30s when I met my second husband, Pascal. From our first date I knew he was a man who cherished physical looks.

Juri: *laughing*
Emi: Well, they do say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder...

He complimented me on my legs, my eyes, my figure. He would endlessly tell me how beautiful I was. He wasn’t attracted by my career or my bank account. Instead he viewed me as a prize to be won and, to my surprise, I found his approach seductive.

James: So... you married a tape recorder. Good to know.

Pascal likes being a proper gentleman — the idea of going Dutch in a restaurant is abhorrent to him. On our first date it was the first time anyone, other than a chauffeur, had opened a car door for me. I loved it — it made me feel special.

James: Stop the presses! A guy used basic manners! *stares at the screen* I'm not impressed here.

Throughout our courtship I received flowers, and was taken to boutiques, where he would hand over his credit card. He’d have a bottle of my favourite champagne on ice when I arrived at his home. When a man goes to that much effort, why wouldn’t I want to go the extra mile for him?

Before our dates I would ensure I looked my best, spending hours on my grooming routine. I’d style my hair the way he liked it, down and slightly tousled, ensure I’d painted and filed my nails and applied a light layer of sun-kissed fake tan. I even ditched my wardrobe of designer trouser suits and rediscovered a love of floral dresses.

James: *groans* So bored...
Juri: *snores*
Emi: *pokes Juri*

Since the time of our blossoming romance, a day has not gone by where I haven’t made an effort with my appearance. It pains me to read that women such as Hillary Clinton feel they’ve reached an age where they no longer need make-up.

James: Probably because the former Secretary of State is actually comfortable with her appearance. Guess that's a foreign idea to you, lady.

If a woman doesn’t make an effort, it’s perfectly logical that her husband will assume it’s because she feels he’s not worth making an effort for. Can you then blame a man for looking elsewhere?

Emi: No. It's not her fault that he won't say anything.

A trophy wife, however, would never make such a mistake.

James: *rolls his eyes*

It’s part of our job description to look good and support our husbands at all times. Pascal and I understand what the other wants. It’s not something we’ve ever discussed, but we both know my role in our relationship is integral to its success.

Juri: But you do nothing. Who are you, Kim Kardashian?
James: Hey, this woman may be dumb as a brick in common sense, but at least she didn't suck anyone off for fame and overexposure... I hope.
Emi: Normally, I would say something about your statement... but I can't since that's what actually happened.

My husband  runs a thriving building company where we live. When we met I was shown off to everyone as yet another perk of his success.

Emi: *adds a comma between "met" and "I"* Her mother must be so proud. She's another set on the trophy wives of "success".

We regularly socialise with other suppliers, clients  and colleagues. They’re all his age — in their 50s — and love seeing a ‘blonde poppet’ (as I’ve been described) on his arm.

James: Oh, bloody hell...
Juri: Remember, ladies! Being objectified is empowering!
Emi: Ugh.

At first, I found such a label ghastly and patronising, but I defy any woman not to be secretly flattered by such accolades when they’re genuinely given as an appreciation of your femininity.

Juri: Because catcalls are okay. Allow me to explain. *looks at Emi* Nice ass.
Emi: *confused* Uh...
Juri: Yeah, thanks for proving my point.

I’m friendly and charming to those he works with and it’s fair to say they soon realise I might be an attractive blonde, but I’ve got a brain, too.

Emi: Funny, it looks like you've stopped using it.

Pascal’s business has expanded because of me.

James: Yeah, and I'm Prince William.
Juri: Congrats on the kid.

It helps that I turn the heads of his friends in a male-dominated industry.

Juri: Are you sure that it's the head on their shoulders? Because I'm convinced that they're using their little man parts as a compass now.

Most of the other wives are older and are focused on their families first, their husbands a poor second.

Emi: *sarcastically* Oh, how dare they raise a healthy family which includes the husband! The nerve of those selfish, selfish women!

My day is organised around my husband: isn’t that what all wives should do?

All: No.

I know my place in the home — in the bedroom or the kitchen, I’m a consummate professional.

Juri: *begins sucking on a pickle, bites it*
Emi, James: *cringes*

I don’t make the mistake of suffering from headaches when I’m between the sheets or feign sleepiness when my husband makes amorous advances. In the kitchen, I put on my apron and prepare Pascal a home-cooked meal twice a day, every day. I wouldn’t dream of serving him up something out of a packet.

James: Yeah, good for you, whatever. You want a medal? Because you're not the only wife that does that, you know.

Each afternoon, before his siesta, I massage his head and shoulders with lavender oil. When he arrives home in the evening, I greet him with an aperitif. Having been married before, we both know about modern relationships — shouty, stressed wives trying (and failing) to do it all, husbands who stay out all hours to avoid the messy domestic scene at home, only convenience food on the table and growing resentment destroying the relationship.

Emi: Oh, I believe that Sonic and his friends know. They've riffed bad Yahoo!Shine articles.

We knew we didn’t want that again — that’s why this works for us.  A man who covets a trophy wife has nothing in common with those in-touch-with-their feelings metrosexual men.

Juri: I'm just waiting for that lightning boy to break the screen now. It'll be hilarious.

Accordingly, I don’t witter on about PMT or yell at him when I’m stressed. That’s what my friends and mum are for.

James: Tch. You're not gonna be my friend, then. I don't tolerate whining.

If I’m poorly I keep out of his way. I knew from the start he was ill-equipped to deal with me when I’m not bright and cheery.

Juri: Besides, robots aren't supposed to have emotions, anyway. Just suck it like it's a lollipop, that's all they do.
Emi: *stunned*

I’d be lying if I said there weren’t downsides to being a trophy wife.

All: No, really?

I know I’ll have to maintain my figure and looks. Pascal is adamant that even as I get older, it’s no excuse to let myself go.

Juri: Wait until he has problems getting a hard-on.
Emi: *furiously blushes*
James: *snickers*

As a younger wife, you battle against the assumption you’re a gold-digger crossing off the years until your beloved is six feet under.

James: Yeah, Brendan Fraser's ex didn't wait that long.

But I have my career and own income, so my lifestyle wouldn’t suffer if I wasn’t with Pascal.

Emi: Yet you'd rather be a trophy wife. I have never been so confused.

In France, there’s a flippant word used to dismiss trophy wives: potiche. It translates as an ornamental vase — something that exists purely because it looks good.

Juri: *looks at a picture of the writer* She looks good?
Emi: Well... looks aren't everything, Miss Juri. I just told you that.

Yet I don’t find it at all dismissive.

James: Of course not. You're an android.

We trophy wives are decorative, treasured and highly valued. And to me, that can never be a bad thing.

Emi: Well, it wasn't bad... until he slept with a younger woman. *sarcastically* How dare you trophy wives get... ugh, old!

Why women hate me for being beautiful

James: Did Benimaru write this?
Emi: Oh, that's entirely beneath him, Mr. Daniels. He wouldn't insult women.

On a recent flight to New York, I was delighted when a stewardess came over and gave me a bottle of champagne.

Emi: Yes, most people would have that reaction.
Juri: Obviously. But hey, she's special.

‘This is from the captain — he wants to welcome you on board and hopes you have a great flight today,’ she explained.

James: And then the stewardess whacked her over the head with the bottle.

You’re probably thinking ‘what a lovely surprise’. But while it was lovely, it wasn’t a surprise. At least, not for me.

Juri: She must've bribed the whole airline to kiss her crusty feet.

Throughout my adult life, I’ve regularly had bottles of bubbly or wine sent to my restaurant table by men I don’t know.

James: *sarcastically* No, that doesn't sound creepy at all...

Once, a well-dressed chap bought my train ticket when I was standing behind him in the queue, while there was another occasion when a charming gentleman paid my fare as I stepped out of a cab in Paris.

Emi: I'm sorry, but... I don't care.

Another time, as I was walking through London’s Portobello Road market, I was tapped on the shoulder and presented with a beautiful bunch of flowers. Even bar tenders frequently shoo my credit card away when I try to settle my bill.

Juri: *currently painting her toenails black* Uh-huh.

And whenever I’ve asked what I’ve done to deserve such treatment, the donors of these gifts have always said the same thing: my pleasing appearance and pretty smile made their day.

James: *falls out of his seat laughing*
Juri: *looks at James for a moment before returning her attention to her toenails* Yep, now we know that she has more crap in her than my toilet does on a weekly basis.
James: *returns to his seat* Yeah, no kidding.

While I’m no Elle Macpherson, I’m tall, slim, blonde and, so I’m often told, a good-looking woman. I know how lucky I am. But there are downsides to being pretty — the main one being that other women hate me for no other reason than my lovely looks.

Emi: Or your vapid personality. But let's not get into that logical explanation now.
Juri: This twit must be living in some dumb Mary Sue Land.

If you’re a woman reading this, I’d hazard that you’ve already formed your own opinion about me — and it won’t be very flattering.

Emi, Juri: Well, duh!

For while many doors have been opened (literally) as a result of my looks, just as many have been metaphorically slammed in my face — and usually by my own sex.

Juri: Too bad. I would've hit you with a real door.

I’m not smug

James: Oh, shut up.

and I’m no flirt, yet over the years I’ve been dropped by countless friends who felt threatened if I was merely in the presence of their other halves. If their partners dared to actually talk to me, a sudden chill would descend on the room.

Emi: *sarcastically* Never mind the fact that she could be horrible at her job. Oh, no, it's never that.

And most poignantly of all, not one girlfriend has ever asked me to be her bridesmaid.

James: Considering that you're a blasted attention seeker, I'm not surprised.

You’d think we women would applaud each other for taking pride in our appearances.

Juri: I'm not applauding you for anything. Get out.

I work at mine — I don’t drink or smoke, I work out, even when I don’t feel like it, and very rarely succumb to chocolate.

Emi: *currently eating a chocolate bar* Hey...
Juri: *takes a piece of chocolate* You can just work it off, anyway. I'm pretty sure that you burn a lot of calories with your master when you do--
Emi: *furiously blushing* No, I don't!

Unfortunately women find nothing more annoying than someone else being the most attractive girl in a room.

James: *rubs his forehead* For the love of Christ... shut the hell up.

Take last week, out walking the dogs a neighbour passed by in her car. I waved — she blatantly blanked me. Yet this is someone whose sons have stayed at my house, and who has been welcomed into my home on countless occasions.

Juri: Yeah, you're lucky that she didn't run you over.
James: And let me guess... you'd do that?
Juri: Yes, I would. You should know me by now.
James: Been in the hospital enough times to know that, you bloody... *mutters*

I approached a mutual friend and discreetly enquired if I’d made a faux pas.

Emi: Yes. You're still talking about how "wonderful" you are.

It seems the only crime I’ve committed is not leaving the house with a bag over my head.She doesn’t like me, I discovered, because she views me as a threat.

James: *constantly presses the 'mute' button on the television remote* Stop talking! Please stop talking!

The friend pointed out she is shorter, heavier and older than me.

Juri: Yeah, like someone would really say that. *sarcastically* I hate you because I'm short, fat, and old, not because you're an asshole!
Emi: She talks about wishing that women would stick together, and yet... presents being short, fat, and old as negatives. Pardon?

And, according to our mutual friend, she is adamant that something could happen between her husband and me, ‘were the right circumstances in place’. Yet I’m happily married, and have been for the past four years.

Emi: Ooh, four years! *holds up a picture of an empty room* Look at all the people who care!

This isn’t the first time such paranoia has gripped the women around me. In my early 20s, when I first started in television as a researcher, one female boss in her late 30s would regularly invite me over for dinner after a long day in the office.

I always accepted her invitation, as during office hours we got along famously. But one evening her partner was at home. We were all a couple of glasses of wine into the evening. Then he and I said we both liked the song we were listening to.

She laid into her bewildered partner for ‘fancying’ me, then turned on me, calling me unrepeatable names before ridiculing me for dying my hair and wearing lipstick. I declined any further invitations.

Juri: She's not talking about another one of the invisible people in her head, is she?
James: Well, that's what all of those glasses of wine'll do to you.

Therapist Marisa Peer, author of self-help guide Ultimate Confidence, says that women have always measured themselves against each other by their looks rather than achievements — and it can make the lives of the good-looking very difficult.

Emi: I wonder if they'll battle it out like the gladiators used to do. Then again, someone out there would consider that a humongous fetish.
Juri: *brings in a gallon of oil* We'll begin after the riffing, pupil.
Emi: *stammers* I wasn't going to... oh, forget it.

‘Many of my clients are models, yet people are always astounded when I explain they don’t have it easy,’ she says. If you are attractive other women think you lead a perfect life — which simply isn’t true.

‘They don’t realise you are just as vulnerable as they are. It’s hard when everyone resents you for your looks. Men think “what’s the point, she’s out of my league” and don’t ask you out. And women don’t want to hang out with someone more attractive than they are.’

James: Well, just Photoshop all of their frowny faces off.

I certainly found that out the hard way, particularly in the office.

Emi: *confused* Did she just compare herself to a model...?
James: Damn. That ego just hit the next galaxy.

One contract I accepted was blighted by a jealous female boss. It was the height of summer and I’d opted to wear knee length, cap-sleeved dresses. They were modest, yet pretty; more Kate Middleton than Katie Price.

Juri: *yawns, begins painting her fingernails black* Yeah, where's the part of the story where a train whacks you to the next city?

But my boss pulled me into her office and informed me my dress style was distracting her male employees. I didn’t dare point out that there were other women in the office wearing similar attire.

All: *facepalms*
James: Why... didn't you...?
Emi: Because she's the victim, Mr. Daniels. Feel sorry for her.
Juri: Something tells me that she's making all of this up. No way in hell would she be the only one being pulled aside because those guys can't quit thinking with their limp--
Emi: Thank you!

Rather than argue, I worked out the rest of my contract wearing baggy, sombre-coloured trouser suits. It was clear that when you have a female boss, it’s best to let them shine, but when you have a male boss, it’s a different game: I have written in the Mail on how I have flirted to get ahead at work, something I’m sure many women do.

Juri: Ladies, now you know what you have to do when you have a male boss!
Emi: Hey, wait! Didn't she say that she wasn't a flirt... in this article?
James: I give up, Emi.

Women, however, are far more problematic. With one phenomenally tricky boss, I eventually managed to carve out a positive working relationship. But a year in, her attitude towards me changed; the deterioration began when she started to put on weight.

James: Christ, how fatphobic are you, you hateful arse?
Juri: I think she just hit Amanda Bynes territory.

We were both employed by a big broadcasting company.

Emi: And then Comcast bought it and ran the company into the ground.

One of our male UK chiefs recommended I take the company’s global leadership course, which meant doors would have opened for me around the world.

Juri: Couldn't some doors fall on her, too? Or maybe a whole house? Maybe she should end up like that witch in "The Wizard of Oz" or something.
Emi: *fills up a bucket of water* Way ahead of you.
Juri: Good girl.
Emi: Uh-huh.

All I needed were two personal recommendations to be eligible. As everyone in the office agreed I was good at my job, I didn’t think this would be a problem.

But while the male executive signed the paperwork without hesitation, my immediate boss refused to sign. When I asked her right-hand woman why, she pulled me to one side and explained that my boss was jealous of me.

Juri: *sighs in annoyance*
James: No, seriously, what kind of stupid Mary Sue bullshit story is this?! I thought I was reading an article here!
Emi: I think this must've been that part of "The White Hedgehog" or "Defying Destiny" that Miss Rose spoke about one time. *rubs her back* Now that I mention it... I should never bring that "White Hedgehog" thing up around her again.

Things between us rapidly deteriorated. Whenever I wore something new she’d sneer at me in front of other colleagues that she was the star, not me.

James: *with a microphone* Two annoying folks battle it out in the ring! Next on WWEgo!

Six months later I handed in my notice. Privately she begged me to stay, blaming the nasty comments on her hormones. She was in her early 40s and confided she was having marital problems. But by then I’d had enough.

Emi: And the ageism strikes again. *rubs her temples* When will this end?
James: *plays with a dud grenade* When I get the chance to send her into the skies with my artillery.
Emi: I hope you're being metaphorical...

I find that older women are the most hostile to beautiful women — perhaps because they feel their own bloom fading. Because my husband is ten years older than me, his social circle is that bit older too.

As a Frenchman, he takes great pride in hearing other men declare that I’m a beautiful woman and always tells me to laugh off bitchy comments from other women.

Juri: I can't wait until this she turns 50. I'll be sure to have some popcorn ready for that.

Yet I dread the inevitable sarky comments. ‘Here she comes. We’re in the village hall yet Sam’s dressed for the Albert Hall,’ was one I recently overheard. As a result I find dinner parties and social gatherings fraught and if I can’t wriggle out of them, then often dress down in jeans and a demure, albeit pretty, top.

James: But can you make paper bags over your face fashionable?
Juri: A plastic one would be better. Maybe one with those little ties.

But even these ploys don’t always work. Take last summer and a birthday party I attended with my husband. At one point the host, who was celebrating his 50th, decided he wanted a photo with all the women guests. Positioning us, the photographer suggested I stand immediately to his right for the shot.

James: Besides, that ego would just put a huge black hole over the picture.
Juri: Y'know... this may be crazy coming from me, but I'm convinced that this chick needs to seek some help.

Another woman I barely knew pushed me out of the way, shouting it wasn’t fair on all the other women if I was dominating the snap. I was devastated and burst into tears.

Emi: *flatly* Yes, I should feel sorry for you because you're not the center of attention. Oh, poor you.

On my own in the loos one woman privately consoled me — well out of ear-shot of her girlfriends.

James: She probably didn't want to be seen in public with someone so horrible.

So now I’m 41 and probably one of very few women entering her fifth decade welcoming the decline of my looks. I can’t wait for the wrinkles and the grey hair that will help me blend into the background.

All: Liar!

Perhaps then the sisterhood will finally stop judging me so harshly on what I look like, and instead accept me for who I am.

Juri: Why the hell would I accept you?
Emi: So she can talk about how wonderful and beautiful she is.
Juri: Then that delusional piece of lint should play Bella Swan in the "Twilight" musical.
James: Yeah, I'll be driving a van into her if that happens.
Emi: *sighs* No... don't do that.

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