When I was three years old, I decided I had had enough of life as a mere mortal. The bedtimes, the grueling chore load, the parents who just didn't understand the oppression of life at three...it was all too much.
I needed an upgrade, and that's why I became the Virgin Mary. I donned a veil, demanded to be addressed as Mary, and regaled my parents with tales of the birth of my son, our lord and savior.
It was the last time I was widely regarded as a good mother. Because once a woman becomes a real mother, everyone--even self-styled feminists--is eager to tell her the many ways she is failing.
