Spoiled Bitch Society

I caught the news tonight and there was a story about the high price of teenage birthday parties. Very wealthy parents are going far out of their way to give their darling little girls celebrations that cost more than your average American makes in a three-year time span. The news, of course, perpetuates the situation by trying to show these parties in some sort of positive light, despite the 10 second rebuttal from a child psychologist who desperately tries to explain the devastating effects this amount of opulence could have on a lass of 13.

This news story seemed to touch on a trend I’ve been noticing for the past few years. With the popularity of vacuous, do-nothings like Paris Hilton and Ashley Simpson is it any wonder that we’ve come into the era of the Spoiled Bitch Society. Young girls are spoon-fed the belief that you don’t have to be talented, smart, responsible, or contribute anything to society at large, yet you can still be famous and sport high-priced, designer goods. I see more girls under 15 walking around with Coach handbags than I do grown women who actually make enough money to afford them.

I’m not some out-of-touch fogy, and I know styles and priorities change, especially in teenage culture where the average kid has the attention span of a gerbil on speedballs. However, I’m a little floored at the notion that we are currently raising a society of young women who believe that everything should be handed to them, and that working to earn anything is something that is beneath them. What’s going to happen when these young women get out into the real world, have to deal with grumpy and demanding bosses, while trying to figure out how to make the mandatory contributions to a 401K account, while still making rent each month.

I’m a parent myself, so I don’t feel particularly hypocritical about putting the blame on those who are siring the Spoiled Bitch Society, after all, the money for the Prada has to come from somewhere. In this news story, a young JAP (Jewish American Princess) was getting a $200,000 coming of age party thrown by her mother, a professional party planner. Jeff was on the couch stewing in disgust, while remarking that the party was less for little Amber and more for her mama to show off. I couldn’t agree more.

I began to think back to my fondest teenage party memories, and figured out that the most expensive thing ever purchased for any of the parties was the cheap-ass beer. Sure a case of Bud was about $12 back in the day, but you had to slip your friend’s slimy, older brother a $20, so he would buy it for you. Most of the parties I attended were at friends’ houses. We would gather, play Guns ‘N’ Roses tapes, smoke cigarettes outside, a few lucky and horny kids would hook up, and on occasion the neighbor down the street would get his mailbox blown to pieces with MD-80s. It was cheap, ridiculous, teenage fun; the type of obnoxious shit that those John Hughes and Amy Heckerling movies were based on.

I don’t get how in such a short span of time it could have gone from a $50 Saturday night (i.e. beer, the bribe, some chips, and a trusty pack of Trojans) to $200,000 for a bunch of 13 year olds. When did the strong sense of entitlement come in? As a working mom, I know how easy it is to give into temptation and let your whining little girl have whatever she wants, especially at the end of the day when you’re tired and all you want is peace. I’ve been there, and it’s a lot harder to say “no” and weather the temper tantrums, then it is to give in. However, by giving in, I would be letting my girl know that if she pushes enough, she too, can be a member of the Spoiled Bitch Society, and I’m just not willing to do that.

My daughter will always have what she needs, and maybe a few extras here and there, but she will know what the words “chores,” “allowance,” and “earning it yourself” mean. I always thought it was ironic that Madame Hilton’s show was called “The Simple Life,” because what could be simpler than not going to college, spending all day shopping on your daddy’s dime, hanging out with sleazy, rich guys at New York City clubs, and buying your dog diamond earrings. The best reality show would be one where Miss Paris gets disinherited and actually has to work for a living.

Only time will tell how hard the Spoiled Bitch Society will fall once their parent’s money well runs dry. Fortunately, lower level admin jobs are plentiful as are old geezers who want to marry hot, younger women, so these broads might have a future. I just hope they keep those Coach bags in their dust covers at night, because they’ll need something to carry their Kelly Services timecard in.