Is Microwave Considered Furniture?

The advertisement on television snared my attention like a bad sleigh wreck on Christmas day.

There stood the queen of all things household - Martha Stewart. Her domestic highness was explaining that - when she really wants to impress her friends during the holidays - she heads for the kitchen and prepares an upside-down flan.

Tune in tomorrow to learn how, I was told.

I scoffed, walked into my own kitchen and tossed a frozen dinner in the microwave. Then I stopped. Head scratch.

What, for God’s sake, is a flan? And why on earth would my friends be impressed if I served it to them upside-down?

More importantly, why do I feel somehow inadequate for not grasping what - in Martha’s mind - is clearly an important home-is-where-the-stomach-is concept.

I looked at the microwave faithfully spinning my dinner-in-a-box. I looked around my apartment (some would call it barren, I prefer to call it minimalist). And it struck me: I am Martha Stewart’s evil twin. Or perhaps more to the point, I am her exact polar opposite.

Observe: I don’t do flower arrangements, knickknacks or gourmet anything. The verb to cook in my vocabulary means to microwave.

My apartment is a study in unmatched, uncoordinated colors.

My bed sheets (white) do not match my comforters (red and black) or my pillow (blue). My towels (I have only two) do not match each other, let alone anything else in the bathroom.

That my bath carpet matches my washcloth is only an accident.

A tour through my refrigerator finds one half-empty can of pop gone flat, two frozen dinners, a leftover burrito from Big Mamu that I couldn’t finish at lunch but will serve nicely for dinner, and a bottle of Skyy vodka. (No, I don’t have a problem. Really.)

My plastic slat blinds came with the apartment. I have only two chairs and I don’t have a kitchen table. But I did recently buy myself a new desk at the unfinished furniture store - not because I relish the idea of painting it myself, but because it was cheaper.

I am, it would seem, a domestic engineer of wrecking ball proportions. And, frankly, part of me revels in this lifestyle, the fact that I don’t fit any female stereotype ever to grace the pages of Good Housekeeping.

Don’t get me wrong. Some of my best friends remind me of Martha. Their apartments are tastefully decorated, their walls nicely adorned. Their towels match. They cook.

But here’s my beef with Martha and her ilk at Good Housekeeping and Home and Garden.

They’re bad for our collective esteem, I say.

You see, it’s no longer the fashion magazines (Vogue, Glamour) that make us feel inadequate. I long ago reconciled the fact that I would neither be tall, nor blond, nor have large brea…well, you know what I mean.

Instead, it is the glut of house-keeping magazines and Martha’s ever-pervasive grip on America’s living rooms, that have become the new purveyors of unreasonable peer pressure.

Rather than worrying about whether my thighs are too fat or my skin too blemished, these magazines would have me instead fuss over whether my Portuguese-etched glassware goes with my ultra-suede throw pillows. I’m a social pariah if I think feng shui sounds like a foot fungus.

Just take a look at the magazine racks.

Martha Stewart Living thinks I should make 18th-century French-designed table centerpieces out of fruit.

Ideal Home encourages simple rattan dining room chairs for that natural look and a simple gingham table cloth and white plates for that uncluttered feel. Rattan? Gingham?

House & Garden wants me to learn how to decorate with white - from sofas covered in Mongolian lambskin to chairs in eggshell suede. And by the way, a vanity stool with fine-grain white leather will cost me only $810.

Oh please.

I refuse to buckle to Martha and Co. I will not do my floors in limestone, I will not make ice-sculptured bowls with fresh flowers embedded in them and I will not pay $1,126 for an ottoman.

Instead, I offer you three suggestions for Winda Benedetti Living.

Forget real plates and utensils. Paper and plastic will do just fine - and you don’t have to do dishes.

Furniture is over-rated. Sitting on the floor gives you that spiritual closeness with your living space.

Taco Bell is our friend. And so is the microwave.

Trust me. It’s a good thing.

, DataTimes MEMO: Winda Benedetti is the Spokesman-Review’s pop music writer. Contact her at 459-5089 or windab@spokesman.com. Or don’t.

The following fields overflowed: CREDIT = Winda Benedetti The Spokesman-Review