My girlfriends and I watched Sex and the City. Not later. Not after. Not when it became cool. We watched religiously. Like the cult followings of Dallas, the original Beverly Hills 90210 and Friends. We would watch every Sunday with our jammies while sipping Cosmos. I remember the days before kids when we would have Sex and the City marathons just for the heck of it, because we could. And in all those times, I was like most young woman, I wanted to be “seen” as the Carrie. I mentally assigned each girl in our group to role. Because I was the aspiring writer and I talked about sex, I determined that I was like Carrie with a splash of Samantha. But, because I was an executive and a stubborn debater, I had a pinch of Miranda as well.
Even now I sit back and reflect on the foursome and recognize that Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte and Miranda are relatable personas for most women. Each character represents a classic, emotionally charged, passionate, sophisticated, fighting aspect of womanhood.
But never once did I relate to Charlotte.
Until tonight.
Spoiler alert, ladies. The second Sex and the City movie is even better than the first!
Of course the movie captures extravagant fun, food, and fashion. But within the escape there were several hidden gems; brief relatable moments, meltdowns of Charlotte, aka the struggling mom. A mom who loses it and locks herself in a closet to cry, trying to gain composure. A mom who sits with her girlfriend over cocktails and admits that motherhood is not easy. A mom who admits that life is not complete simply because she has children. A mom who struggles to find joy in screams and crying, who longs for a moment of sanity in an otherwise hectic day of selfless giving.
In the midst of the fashion, writing, marriage and shoes, I toasted dear sweet Charlotte. Cheers Mama. For the first time, I know exactly how you feel.
Mighty Sweet Thing 