I pulled up behind a minivan the other day while I was out running errands. I immediately laughed out loud when I read one of the obnoxious, tacky, ridiculous decals on the back. Right next to “Jenni-Softball” and “Mark-Baseball” was a decal that said “Hot Moms Drive Minivans.” I scoffed. I laughed. I took a picture with my Blackberry. Ridiculous! Listen up young moms, BlackBerry used to the bomb.com of cell phones.
*I wrote this piece about 8 years and 3 kids ago. Guess what? I am now a card-carrying member of the minivan club for 3 years! Enjoy the humor of my younger self’s naivete.
It’s the Principle Of Driving A Minivan
What’s the big deal, you may wonder. Well, I have a confession: I will NEVER drive a minivan. Ever. I’ll ride a bicycle. Take the bus. Hitchhike. Segway. Use my good ole-fashioned “ChevroLegs.” You may be wondering why I feel this way, and it’s pretty simple. When I was a teenager who knew EVERYTHING about nothing, I swore on my cheerleading hot pants that I’d never, ever, under any circumstances drive a minivan. It’s a matter of personal pride. Style, if you will. It’s just not for me. Oh honey, here’s where you are so very wrong. Let’s prepare to eat our words. Gulp.
Now don’t get me wrong, I can see the practicality of such a vehicle. In fact, I can even understand why some moms and dads actually desire the minivan. It has the easy-to-load door, the roomy interior, etc., but it is lacking in one key department: cool points.
There’s nothing sexy about a minivan. There’s nothing hot about some mom rolling up to a stop light kicking her six-disc changer to Kesha…in a minivan. There aren’t leather seats, moonroofs, or Bose speakers. Minivans aren’t built for speed. They’re not built for status. They’re certainly not built for sex appeal. They’re utilitarian. Minivans are the granny-panties of the automobile world, right next to the girdles that are station-wagons.
Not totally wrong, but also not entirely true.
When You Have to Eat Crow
So, in my quest to feel sexy, Milf-y if you will, I have kept my solemn vow from the years of Natural Light and Friday night football. I will never drive a minivan. I reserve the right to feel like a hot mom once in a while, and to me, that means rollin’ my leather-clad, Bose-equipped, moonroof rockin’ SUV up to stoplights with the wind in my hair…and a car seat in the back, dignity and sex appeal intact! Actually, you’re a proud mom of four little mayhem-masters now, so your sex appeal stock hasn’t dropped THAT much, at least in the eyes of the only guy whose opinion matters.
Wrong, sister. I was SO WRONG it gives me palpable pain to admit it. Hot moms drive minivans. Maybe not all of them, but at least some of them do. I was wrong about me driving a minivan. I am doing that every day now. I’m driving the asexual, anonymous-looking Honda Odyssey (gray, natch), and guess what, honey? It does come with leather and a moonroof. So who’s laughing now?
Also, what the heck is wrong with granny panties? Asking for a friend.
