The President Addresses the Nation

by Rosie

 

Julie Weiss carefully put the hot dish down on her dining table. Her husband, Jake, and her son, Tommy, were hungrily awaiting the steaks she served them. They didn't even wait until she sat down at the table, they dug right in. Julie looked at her men with pride. Tommy was beginning to look more and more like his father gentle faced and slim. Not quite tall as him, but Julie never cared for too tall men. She wasn't a tall woman herself, just about two inches taller than her husband

"I'm going to sleep over at Marjorie's" Tommy announced in his clear, bright, melodic voice.

"Really?" Julie asked, "The president's going to be on TV tonight."

"Oh, right," Tommy said, then shrugged, "I'll probably watch at Marjorie's. Maybe the president will finally come clean about her daughter being a dyke."

"Tommy, I wish you didn't use that word," Julie complained.

"Hey, he just calls 'em like he sees 'em, right son?" Jake replied and the two men giggled like mad.

 

Jake was comfortably seated on the sofa while Julie was putting the dishes in the dishwasher.

"How did the interview go?" she asked him when she finished.

Jake had lost yet another job recently. It seemed to her that in all of their long years of marriage, he never held a job for more than two months. Not that they were desperate for money - Julie made more than enough as a vice president of a small company for them to live on, yet was sorry for Jake. She felt that a steady job might at least provide him with some direction in his life.

"They cancelled on me and told me to come tomorrow," he replied.

"That's a shame," she said and tried to say something else, but the music and the nation's emblem on the screen interrupted her.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the president of the United States, Melanie Walsh," a pleasant female voice announced.

 

"Dear fellow Americans," the president said, seated behind her desk, "first of all I have to apologize to you for using, or better yet, abusing, the way I'm using the national address system to explain my private matters. Yet at this point, as our media is taking a closer look at my daughter and her fiancé, I do not believe I have any choice, if we want the truth to be heard, and not fabrications and lies. It is my own fault as I have always believed that what goes on behind the closed doors of the bedroom is nobody's business and have therefore not revealed the complete nature of my lifestyle. Not because I would deem it shameful but simply because I was never asked to do this. As the president, I was trying to set an example my fellow citizens, but now I realize that the example I was trying to set was wrong. I believe that we have reached the point where we must open the doors of our bedrooms and take look beyond them - ourselves as well.

 

I now speak, rather than a president to her fellow citizens, as a woman to her fellow women. Since the dawning of civilization to the near past, men have been considered as superior to women. In the past century, however, women have proven themselves not just as capable but even better than men at many fields. The woman's gender role is now limited strictly to pregnancy, since, thanks to modern science, men can also produce milk, although not many choose to. Many married men don't even have jobs, 85% of the American workforce are women. Yet we are still perceived as maids to our husbands. Most of the prestigious positions are still occupied by men. The fact that I have been preceded by only two other female presidents proves that. Why? I ask you. For what reason? For no other reason that this attitude is a remnant from the past. The public image that men try to project is the only reason. In the past it might have worked on account of their physical appearance, but for the last couple of generations, the average woman is both taller and stronger than the average man. This fictitious superiority of men is caused by us not opening the doors of our bedrooms. This means that the women that are able to stand for themselves are not noticed and therefore can not serve as an example for others, who try to fit in a society that can only judge by the images they see. I have decided to put an end to that, and I hope that many women will follow my suit.

Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you my husband, David."

 

The camera panned out so that the viewers could see who the president was pointing at. Beside her desk stood her husband, dressed in a bright red suit consisting of a tailored jacket and a knee length pencil skirt, his brown hair falling prettily around his immaculately made up face.

"Or Mr. Melanie Walsh, as he is legally called," the president continued, as the camera zoomed in, "yes, my fellow citizens, it may appear to you that my husband is in fact a woman. But I assure you that he is a man. He does have breasts because we have both nursed our daughter. He is wearing a skirt and a silk blouse underneath his jacket, but bear in mind that this is the men's idea of women's clothing. Their idea of clothing of the weaker, subordinate sex." She paused and took a sip of water before continuing.

 

"For millennia men have made us wear clothes that made us appear attractive to them, not rarely at the cost of our discomfort, if not hazards to our health. But bear in mind that my talk tonight is not about revenge. It is not about women's clothing signifying the weaker sex. I strongly reject the idea of either of the sexes being weaker or subordinate but if one of them has to be, it certainly won't be the female sex!"

 

Her voice and stance toughened. "And if clothing would signify the weaker sex, I would not be giving this address wearing a skirt and three inch heels as I am now. It is about men's clothing signifying the dominating sex in their minds. We could foil their attempts at dominating us simply by wearing men's clothing, but why should we give up our favorite dresses and silky lingerie just to show them they're wrong. Where would be the fun in buying shoes then? That way we would simply have to wear something we normally wouldn't because of our men."

 

She pointed her finger decisively at the audience. "The right solution is for men to abandon their current fashion. Now I can not force anyone to wear any particular type of clothing. I haven't forced my husband into skirts, I simply told him I'd prefer him dressed as he is. Just as my daughter, Sally, has done with her fiancé Jeremy."

 

The camera backed out again. At the other side of the desk, the president's daughter, dressed in an elegant white pant suit, was holding hands with her boyfriend who was wearing a short pale pink silk dress. Both were beaming with joy although the boyfriend seemed a little shy appearing on TV. The camera zoomed in again. To show his immaculate makeup and soft, pretty eyes.

The president continued. I have revealed this not because of the allegations made about our daughter's sexual preferences, but because while it certainly seems otherwise, I do believe ours is not the only such case. And chiefly, because the work performance of the American woman is hampered because she is overburdened by having to do two jobs, one at her workplace and one at home. I am speaking as the president to her fellow citizens when I say this to the American men: stop acting macho and get off your silly little asses! To the American women, I would like to give an advice that has been passed on through the women of my family for generations: men are like children. No matter how much you love them, you have to put them over your knee from time to time. It's for their own good."

 

She took another sip of water and concluded. "I thank you sincerely for your patience and wish you good night."

 

"That woman just might be onto something," Julie muttered and went to pick up the phone.

"Hello, Marjorie?" she said into the receiver, "yes. You did, didn't you? I don't know, I hope I don't have to, but if I do, I will. Listen, are you busy tomorrow? I was wondering if you could do me a little favor. Great, that's exactly what I had in mind. Thanks. See you tomorrow then. Bye."

 

Jake was petrified as he watched Julie walk towards him with her new found confidence.

"That interview tomorrow?" she began, "I don't want you to go."

"Why not?"

"Marjorie will be taking you and Tommy to the mall, you need to get some proper clothes," Julie replied calmly.

"But-" Jake began, but Julie cut him off.

"The only butt in this conversation is a well spanked one! It's time for me to lay down the law."

Saying that she effortlessly picked him up, unbuckled his pants, placed him over her knees and spanked him firmly.

 

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen, my name is Jefferey Owens and these are the eight o' clock news," said the anchorman, dressed in a beige silk blouse, "a week after president's Walsh's address, she has made further steps in her equality program. With the help of the surgeon general, she has begun promoting nursing among men with tax cuts and child support services. She says that along with shortening the necessary maternity leave, it will also make reintegration of men into modern society easier. More later, but first let's hear from Tracy Mills. Over to you, Tracy."

 

"Thank's Jeffery, good evening," said the reporter standing in front of some crowded town square, "we usually don't talk about fashion this soon in the evening, but it seems that not only in the USA, but all over the world, virtually all men have accepted their new dress code, as much as they were able to buy suitable clothes. Despite the hyperproduction of the textile industry, there is still a shortage of smaller sizes. Apart from not being able to supply the wanted articles, they are faced with tons of clothes they simply can not sell."

 

"Thank you Tracy. Lines at the malls aren't the only ones caused by the president's last week's address. With her instruction to the registrars that the husband should assume the wife's last name unless stated otherwise, couples from all over the country are rushing to get their last names changed to the wifes' maiden names. However, there is a growing number of cases where the husbands change not only their family names, but also their personal names to their wifes' names. More from Marc Andersen."

 

A young man appeared on the screen, holding the microphone in one hand while trying to keep his veiled straw hat on his head with the other on his blue floral dress fluttering in the wind. Before he could speak, Julie turned off the television. Jake had called her and Marjorie to the table.

"You thinking of changing his name too?" Marjorie asked her.

"I was for a while, but it would be only confusing to have two Julies in the house. Maybe I'll have him called Jane though. How about you with Tommy?"

"I feel the same way. Maybe I'll just change the y into the i. Tommi. Or Tammi. We'll see. I already have him on the milking program, though."

"Oh? Are you expecting?"

"No, no," Marjorie answered, "but I do plan him to wear a low cut gown on our wedding."

"You know, now that you've mentioned it, Jane could do with some cleavage."

 

Jake came over to them, dressed in his tight satin dress, swaying on his three inch heels.

"Are you two coming or what?" he asked.

"Sure, Jane, relax," Julie answered, smoothing out her skirt as she got up. She linked hands with her husband and proudly watched Marjorie embrace their son, so pretty in his white flouncy silk blouse and red and white polka dot full silk skirt.

"You know, I was sure that woman just might be on to something," she muttered contentedly.

 

The end.

  

  

  

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