Or…Why I Won’t Watch The Academy Awards Next Year

Lupita 2

Brad Pitt passing out plates for pizza. The tweet that broke Twitter. “The wickedly talented Adele Dazeem.” Lupita Nyong’o’s dress. Lupita Nyong’o’s speech. Lupita Nyong’o’s headband. And don’t forget, visual confirmation that plastic surgery doesn’t always go so well. The Academy Awards were wildly entertaining this year for the above reasons and so many more.

Sure, there were a few gratuitous moments I could have done without (sorry Bette). And sure it can be described as a night of self-congratulation for genetically-blessed humans who both demand us to pay attention to them and then get all imperious when we buy magazines showing photos of them sans makeup pushing shopping carts. But, entertaining? Indeed.

Still, I will not watch next year.

I’m not fundamentally against the Academy Awards. I think it’s great when people are acknowledged for their hard work. But I won’t watch the Oscars in 2015 for four main reasons: I have celebrity fatigue, Internet savvy, a love of sleep, and a firm belief that the awards are going to the wrong recipients.

Celebrity Fatigue
When I was younger, watching the Academy Awards on TV was a rare peek into the world of seeing actors in the wild—outside of their natural on-screen habitats. It was a dizzying and novel display of gorgeous and creative gowns. It was seeing who was dating whom and hearing a favorite actress interviewed on the red carpet. But now you can see and hear all those things on any given Sunday and every other day of the week on reality television and regular television and in innumerable magazines and on Twitter and on Facebook and probably on Instagram if I ever bothered to look. Celebrinformation overload.

Internet Savvy
Thanks to Al Gore’s gorgeous invention, I don’t have to stay awake until the end of the Academy Awards to find out what happened. I can have credentialed access on post-Oscar Monday morning to a full-color, high-res, every-angled slideshow of the best/worst/least dressed. I can zoom in on nip slips and Neil Lane jewels. I can figure out what dresses A.B.S. will be copying for long-legged, high-boobed, pink-lipped prommers. I can see every dress worn categorized by designer, color, and neckline. I can finally try to figure out what differentiates a Gucci tux from a Calvin Klein tux. And I can see a list, lickety-split, of every winner along with a photo of the exact moment said winner got the nod.

Love of Sleep
I live on the east coast. Do you have any idea what time the Academy Awards show ends on the east coast?

Wrong Recipients 
There are women, a very large group of women, in fact, who deserve the “best actress” Oscar way more than Amy, Cate, Sandra, Dame Judi J, and even Meryl. Who are these unacknowledged women? Moms.

If you want to see some of the best acting performances this country has to offer, look no further than your nearest mom. She acts on a daily basis. All frickin’ day long. And with none of the resources those revered actress ladies have. She has no contract that stipulates a personal trainer, five highly nutritious yet delicious small meals a day, hair and makeup, and a well-fitted and fashionable wardrobe. There are no M&Ms in her green room mostly because she doesn’t have a green room unless her living room is green, and if it is, she has to fill the damn candy bowl herself. There is no paycheck that affords her a small Caribbean island for three months of work. And she certainly does not get a script written by really smart guys crammed around a small conference table. She has to make up every single word all by herself!

Call times are early and there is no chauffeured car to the set, just a dark, cold walk down the stairs to start breakfast. There are no far-flung exotic locations. Male co-stars are never that gorgeous, that romantic, or that good at sex. And there are no flower bouquets sent for a job well done. These moms have demanding roles and they often have to work with both animals and children. And I haven’t even started on the actual acting, the versatility required.

So you tell me, who deserves the recognition? Who deserves to choose between the navy blue McQueen and the pale blue Prada? (Prada, please.) Who deserves to have the whole world applaud them for how hard they worked and how goddamn convincing they were? Who deserves to be fawned over and photographed? And who deserves what every Oscar-winning actress gets as soon as she wraps her professionally manicured fingers around that gleaming gold statue: better job offers, better invitations, and, most importantly, a better paycheck?

I’m not complaining. I do realize that we moms get tons of rewards for our work: lovely little kisses, sweet “I love you’s,” the swell of pride that comes from creating productive and kind citizens of the world. And to be fair, there are others who also get the short end of the recognition stick, for instance teachers and police officers. But still couldn’t we get just a little piece of the action? I’d settle for the M&Ms and the A.B.S. dress.

Know someone who should win a Best Mom Oscar? Nominations are being accepted in the comments below:

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