dawn-dreaming and other pathetic attempts at finding a title

I search for women+subjugation+marriage and the first think google throws up is "The Rise and Demise of Women's Liberation". Excited, I flit through the text - that was one radical piece of writing -

Motherhood-as-calling, as sole definition of women’s social function, and marriage as the only “normal” condition of women, serve to assure the necessary annual crop of new proletarians.

I'm not sure if it was too dated or am too programmed to believe I'm liberated but decide to look for somethin worth staying up till 5 AM to read.
And then on the results page I notice the sponsored links am attuned to ignore.

* Married but feeling unfulfilled?
Find local like-minded partners.
* Become a Tupperware consultant and
work from home.
* Find Unhappily Married Local Women
Instant Search Your Area

I am particularly intrigued by the suggestion that Tupperware is related to post-marital subjugation of women. Oh, the other two links just vouch for the fact that we are one filthy generation.

My mother and I are infuriatingly hypocritical women. We'll scoff at women we know who do not think of being only home-makers as being 'only' home-makers,think they're preserving a piece of themselves and exercising their dormant entrepreneurial talent trying to sell tupperware, women who without a trace of self-doubt, and perhaps even regret, will live only for others. She and I have had friends who claim to be ready for life of domesticity and easy affluence - always surprising - considering the women I knew are now only 21, jus outta college, weren't far behind me academically or really regressive rural types. But then who doesn't want a life of domesticity and easy affluence? Who am I kidding, working isn't as much fun as everyone wants me to believe. Challenging, perhaps, but only challenging enough to have me chew my nails off for an hour or two before I see a workaround. The last year has been jus about a bunch of minor accomplishments on the academic front and major bouts of heart-crushing sorrow in my personal life. If I could give up everything, all this - the life I've always wanted, I would, for a life of domesticity and easy affluence.

ah, if only easy affluence was as easy for us as it sounds. I have thought about this before: if I can ever be so rich that I'd not want to be anything. well, other than be rich, that is. a naive new engineering student who was doin quite well for herself that I was, I told myself that I'd bore myself to death not doin anything and that my education, my intelligence is too precious to throw away. And now I stand at the very edge of my comfortable life as a student staring ahead at years of 'gettin there' followed by years of 'almost there' and I want to be magically transported to my 'well, here we are, shall we get that vermeer?' era. on second thoughts don't even need that stupid 17th century paintin, want be comfortable enough to lie around and read about Vermeer all day and maybe consider selling Tupperware. I conform to society's standards of how a woman should look, why the moral high ground when it comes to standards of how a woman should act. I guess I'm reaching here. Women I know who sell tupperware do work their asses off too, at home though, and they can single-handedly churn out smashing meals for a large thankless family. But it just seems so much easier. and peaceful. and strangely fulfilling.

well, who knows? maybe he'll paint his masterpiece and we'll retire at 25 and quickly aquire a taste for pina coladas and malibu.