What's Your Life Like? A Game Show

I sat in the audience of What's Your Life Like?, waiting for the game show to begin. Pick me! Pick me! It wasn't the first show I'd been to, but my seats were closer to the stage and action this time. Lo and behold, I was chosen! I would be a contestant! Wow!

The What's Your Life people gave me a make-over and the chance of a lifetime. Whatever I earned would be mine to keep, with the stipulation that I would walk away a changed person. The other two contestants, a man of about 45 with a comb-over and a woman of 93 with zero wrinkles, stretched cat eyes and garish maroon hair, whispered to each other as we gazed at the mystery doors before us. I believe she had once been SOMEBODY. 

This was a combination game show that showed on every network. The entire world was watching. I knew I was going to hit it big! First, I had to sing in front of the audience, and for that, I got a standing ovation. The comb-over dude tried to rap and was booed off the stage. The 93 year old flirted with the MC and was given a free pass. My eyes narrowed. Not fair.

She and I were shown three doors and asked to choose.

Ms. Maroon Hair chose Door #2 which led to a mansion with an Olympic-sized swimming pool and a hot-bodied pool guy who looked no older than 50. "I want it all!" she giggled. I rolled my eyes.

I was told to decide between Door #1 and Door #3. I chose Door #1.

Door #1 gave me a handsome guy, along with trips to Europe, a sweet house in a friendly neighborhood, a cool German Shepherd who obeyed every command and 2 delicious, smiley children, in that order. Yes! Jackpot! I felt so happy, I sang!

The MC asked, "Would you both like to see what is behind Door #3?" 

Sure, we shrugged, why not? 

Door #3 lead to a career as a stock analyst, a zillion frequent flyer miles, a fancy NYC apartment with a full-service bar that would be put to good use and a gym membership that wouldn't. The walls were papered with stock tickets. Ms. Maroon Hair and I grinned at each other. We'd done better than that.

But to keep it all, we had to proceed further into the game. We had to...risk it all! The second round was nicknamed the dystopian fantasy round. There were more doors to be opened. Mrs. Maroon Hair selected first and found herself in a shmaltzy assisted living facility that still managed to smell like ammonia. The young, beautiful helpers rode around in wheelchairs while the elderly, dressed in tuxedos, served them. Let me tell you, Ms. Maroon Hair knew more curse words than I did.

She was asked if she'd keep it or trade it all in for whatever lay beyond...it could be the first door she chose or something else entirely. The final door was the Sticking Door--whatever she selected now would remain with her for life. "Trade! Trade! Trade! chanted the audience. 

Suddenly, Ms. Maroon Hair had her mansion returned to her, and with it, nearly half her youth. She transformed into a gorgeous 55 year old with flowing red hair and a mermaid's tail. (I did note that she also had normal eyes with a few wrinkles crinkling the corners.) The pool boy's mouth dropped and so did he, onto one knee, as he held out an emerald engagement ring. "I'll take it!" she giggled.

Ahhh... she would live happily ever after (as long as she stayed in her pool, that is.)

I walked through my next door but nothing changed. I gazed all around--I still had the husband, the house, the dog and the kids. I began to question the MC when I realized that a gray smoke had settled all around me.

Suddenly, the dog keeled over, dead of cancer at a young age. Faulty water pipes were found in the 90 year old house and the dishwasher stopped working. The husband's company closed down. And the 2 wonderful kids turned out to be sick. 

I was asked if I would trade it all in or stop there. 

Trade! Trade! Trade! shouted the audience. 

Well, heck yeah! I'll trade, I yelled back.

"You realize that you could end up with anything else," the MC warned. 

"Sure, but I'm sure it will be better than this!" I replied. I was still hoping for that singing career in addition to the family. Maybe this was the chance to make it come true. Or perhaps, I'd be a famous novelist! "Trade!" I yelled again.

The final door led to a hospital to the left and to the right, an now even older house that suffered from lack of a new paint job as well as from faulty water pipes and MOLD. And a husband who was working out of the house part time while trying to take care of one of the two sick kids who was extremely sick and couldn't attend school.

"This is horrible!" I gasped.

"Oh, but it gets worse," the MC leered. "Watch!"

I shivered as I watched the second child struggle with illness and scholastics. And I shuddered as I saw that I had become sick as well. I wasn't a Broadway star. I was a sick chick. With a sick family. In a sick home.

"Trade!" I yelled, but no one heard me. The audience was laughing and slapping each other, and saying, "Good show!" and the MC was saying, "And we are out of time. Stay tuned for tomorrow's edition of, What's Your Life Like?"

trade! i whispered. trade..?

t...r....a...d...e...?