1. Cut back on the travel. You’re pregnant, for heaven’s sake! While other people have been looking at your wedding ring and your brave smile, we’ve been noticing the number and size of the bags you’ve been carrying. And you’re only in the first trimester. Lighten the load and stay home. Yes, we know the Africa trip must have seemed like the perfect opportunity to escape the sturm und drang of the spotlight, and we know that your job means being where your boss is—i.e., on the road. But, a.) those cameras haven’t stayed behind, and b.) like every other working mother on the planet, you’re going to have to start juggling.
The juggle starts now.
Because a woman’s place is in the home, of course.
2. Spend some time with your husband. This is known as Work/Life Balance. You’ve been married for 11 months and one of your only public comments about your wedding was: “Our schedules are so busy that we don’t have time for a honeymoon!” Turns out, if ever there’d been a couple in need of a honeymoon, it was the two of you. Talking on the phone “several times a day” doesn’t cut it. You guys need some face time. Want to take a trip? Accompany Representative Weiner, not Secretary Clinton. Here’s a destination idea: the office of a good couple’s therapist.
Way to implicitly blame Huma for her husband’s douchebaggery.
3. Get him to shut up. I know—good luck with that.
Because it’s a woman’s responsibility to keep their man in line? Or something?
4. Remember you’re not Hillary. And that her experience is not yours. The irony of your being the Other White House Intern hasn’t been lost on us. While Bill picked Monica Lewinsky, Hillary got lucky with you. And we bet her advice and support have been great. But try to separate yourself a little—you’re both strong women, but you’re a different generation, in a different situation, and you don’t deserve to be lumped together in the Lonely Hearts Club.
Yeah, don’t get any delusions of grandeur about your position. You’re no Hillary, Huma, no matter how much people in the media compare you to her in sensationalist articles about your situation, which they inevitably will. This, too, is probably your fault, somehow.
5. Focus on the baby. Doesn’t that put everything in perspective? You’re going to be a mother! It is the most exciting identity change a woman can undergo. You’ve got some lovely things to look forward to—the first kick, some great sonograms, heartburn, insomnia—and those are all before your little one is born. You’re allowed to browse for onesies and blankies online. You’re expected to go to all the parenting Web sites and bulletin boards to chart and discuss your symptoms. On the Internet—unlike your husband—no one will know who you are.
Because having a baby changes a woman’s whole identity. You have to throw yourself into being the best mommy ever, because lord knows if anything is wrong with the baby, or ever goes wrong with the baby, that’s going to be your fault, too. You also have permission to do suitably mommy-related things on the internet—just kidding, those are expectations! Practically requirements!
This is the Worst. Advice. Ever. What the hell, Vanity Fair? It’s been a while since I’ve seen such a disgusting piece of sexist concern trolling presented as a legitimate opinion in a major publication.
So, so wrong. STFU Vanity Fair. Not your marriage? Not your business.