Wonder Woman Never Got me in Trouble, She-Ra Did

spring-day-united-states-of-shockGrowing up, I was a huge Wonder Woman fan though I never read the comic books. (To be honest, comic books have always made me motion sick and stressed out. I never know what order the boxes are meant to be read.) I had the origin storybook “Wonder Woman in Cheetah on the Prowl” that came with a cassette tape to read me the story instead of my full-time working parents. Looking back, the pictures in that book permanently shaped what I thought a beautiful woman looked like. I don’t think I’ll ever consider myself beautiful until I have jet black hair so dark there are thick stripes of blue hair bouncing around my face.

As a small child, I had Wonder Woman Underoos. ( When you watch the comercial, notice how when they turn around, the boy’s costumes are complete while Woner Woman is a party in the front and tighty whites and tank in the back, like she forgot to turn around during the full body superhero spray tan.) It was underwear that looked enough like the American flag to make me feel guilty about getting them dirty. If it was shameful to let an American flag touch the ground, what was I supposed to feel after I left skid marks in one? I had glued a hook to to hold my “lasso of truth” which was what I called my trusty neon pink jump rope that I would accidentally whipped myself
with on a regular basis and the truth hurt a lot.

I loved the movie. I was surprised by the Washington Times Headline,”‘Wonder Woman Surpasses ‘Batman VS Superman’ at the Box Office.” Since when is “Good Movie Makes More Money Than Ishtar” news? It was no Dark Knight, but it was far better than the Avenger’s movies for one big reason. Wonder Woman falls for a decent guy. Sure she could have done better. Most female characters could do way better than the ones they end up with because superhero scripts are written with the male gaze and fragile nerd ego in mind. The Black Widow falling in love with the Hulk did my head in. I’m sure she’s had a checkered past, but the whole story line implies strong women will and should end up with a guy with severe anger management/alcohol issues since they are the only ones equipped to handle them. Horseshit.

Speaking of strong women involved with alcoholic, angry men. Robyn Wright was AMAZEBALLS in the movie, going into battle with a smirk on her face as if to say, ” You think you know how to fight?! I lived with Sean Penn for 13 years, motherfucker!” Her role as the General is remeniscent of Tina Turner’s Aunt Entity in Mad Max.
(I’m a huge fan of Wright as Claire Underwood in “House of Cards”, too. I’m also convinced Teresa May is Claire Underwood’s Dorian Grey Portrait.)

(Am I wrong?)

I was so happy that this Wonder Woman was truly strong and agile. Linda Carter’s Wonder Woman spun around like she had vertigo and only ran in slow motion like Pamela Anderson on the beach. The bottom half of Carter’s lingerie-inspired Wonder Woman costume was so wide from the back, the stars on her ass looked like the Milky Way. The camera man was well aware of this as every time he had to shoot her from behind, either the camera filmed it from across the street or she was inexplicably standing in the middle of a well manicured bush in Washington D.C., not an easy feat.

Gal Godot’s Wonder Woman isn’t impossibly thin, nor does she look like a bodybuilder. She is not ridiculously pale, nor does she sound American. Her closeup shots don’t resemble porn. (Go back and watch “Laura Croft:Tomb Raider” and see if you can find a close up of Angelina Jolie without her mouth open. You can’t.)

Wonder Woman never got me in trouble as a small child, probably because she never had a sword when I was little. If she had, she would have gotten me into big trouble the way She-Ra did. She-Ra, superhero’s He-Man’s twin sister, thrusted a sword in the sky to gain power. One hot summer day, (not my sister) I thrusted my sword (a stick) into the air and hitting our living room’s massive ceiling fan string that then wrapped itself up into the ceiling fan motor. I heard a crunchy wheezing as the fan blades continued to spin while the motor chewed through the chain. It made the sound helicopter propellers do when they are shot down in Rambo movies. I instinctively took a step backwards as I heard a whoosh as the ceiling fan came crashing down from the upside down Noah’s arc that was our ceiling.
Unbeknownst to me, my dad had come into the living from mowing the yard and had silently witnessed the whole thing. I looked at him, jumped over the couch and ran into my bedroom, slamming the door behind me. I may have wanted to be She-Ra or Wonder Woman, but in real life, I resembled the Roadrunner more.
I was grounded for several weeks. Not because I’d done anything wrong but because my parents wanted to keep me from challenging other household appliances to the death.

The Wonder Woman movie may not be the best of it’s genre but it’s a damn good first run that I can’t wait to see more of.


I’m Spring Day (real name, hippie parents)

Moving back to the United States after having lived in Japan and traveling the world for 16 years has been a bit of a head fuck, especially since I now work in the U.K. My blog “The United States of Shock!” is where I give my brilliant and bitter two cents, pence, yen and euro on my experience with culture shock and current events. If you have any questions you would like to have answered in a snit, email them to springdaycomedy@gmail.com

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