On the surface, it seems that “yes” is the appropriate answer to the question “Would I want to be Wonder Woman?”
In this made up scenario, I would be an amazon, but I would also be me.
If we operate under the assumption that I would still be me, then it would be prudent to at least consider not being Wonder Woman.
Let’s start with the accessories.
Having an invisible jet is not practical for me. I would lose my invisible jet in a hot minute. Are the keys invisible, too? Because if so, forget about it. My actual, visible keys are often MIA. I’d lose invisible keys between the keyhole and my front pocket.
I assume you need keys for an invisible jet. I have no idea.
If I did manage to keep track of my jet, I’d be irresponsible. I’d park it in an area with a lot of foot traffic. I would bring a lawn chair, a cooler, and my golden lasso. I would park my ass in my lawn chair and spend the day watching people walk into my invisible jet.
Speaking of the golden lasso of truth, I hope it’s under some sort of Amazon warranty because I would use the shit out of this. I have an 18 year old son who excels in foot dragging. If had the golden lasso of truth, the following conversation would take place:
Me: Have you scheduled your SAT yet?
Me, unwinding my golden lasso of truth: Are you sure about that?
Manchild: Pretty sure.
Manchild: No! No, I haven’t scheduled it yet.
Me: Are you going, to?
Manchild: Yes! I promise. I’m going to right this minute. Then I’m going to clean my bathroom and get all the dirty dishes out of my bedroom.
The magic tiara boomerang can just stay on my head.
I can’t imagine a more horrifying weapon for me to operate than a boomerang. Having a boomerang within 100 yards of me is irresponsible.
Let me illustrate: One day, not long ago, I got cheese in my eyelashes at work. I was stirring a microwaved entree as the directions dictated, but a piece of cheese adhered to my fork. So when I pulled the fork away, the cheese boomeranged up to my face and attached to my eyelashes. I detached myself from my lunch before any coworkers walked in. Based on that story, you understand why my magic tiara has to be for show.
While “Bracelets of Submission” sounds obnoxious, the actual bracelets would come in handy.
Not fashion wise, though. Not for me at least. The bracelets are really cuffs more than bracelets. I don’t have long, sinewy arms. The Bracelets of Submission would make my arms look stubby. I suppose they might have come in handy for the cheese incident. I could have deflected the cheese before it attached to my eyelashes.
The Bracelets of Submission absorb the shock of falls and which would come in handy as I fall often enough to consider it a hobby. Even though there are some pretty large pros to having the bracelets, the problem begins if they come off. Of course, there’s no way they wouldn’t come off. If I own an object smaller than a bread box, then I’m going to lose it. Probably if it’s larger than a bread box as well. I’ve never owned a bread box. I don’t want to risk losing it.
If the Bracelets of Submission are broken or removed, then the wearer goes into an uncontrollable frenzy of destruction. I’ve been married 3 times. I am obviously capable of going on uncontrollable frenzies of destruction without mystical accessories. I’m not sure I want to know what I’d be capable of with the right jewelry.
Wonder Woman’s superpowers are problematic as well.
Super strength and fighting skills? I hate fighting. I’ve been in two fights in my entire life and neither ended well. I suffered guilt over the fights. It’s not just fighting, I feel guilty about a lot of things. But I felt extra guilty over fighting. Sometimes, the other humans get on my nerves. For instance, when I am trying to concentrate and I can’t because I have other people’s personal conversations forced into my ear holes. If I had super strength while being horribly annoyed by listening to someone talk about the spaghetti they made the night before, I might lose my bracelets and then shit would go down. After which, I would feel a great deal of guilt. Who knows? Maybe super guilt.
Wonder Woman also has superior strategy and hunting skills. Strategy skills would be meaningless to me. Sure, I might be able to plan out a flawless battle plan. I mean, I could if I could stay on task for more than a few minutes at a time. I wouldn’t get past picking colors for my army’s uniform before getting distracted by needing to clean out my refrigerator, making an appointment with the dermatologist for that weird thing on my forehead and wondering how many pairs of socks I’ve lost in my life. See how that would lead to disaster? People would be depending on me to lead them into battle, and I’d be busy wondering why I’ve never been able to figure out a Rubik’s cube puzzle and looking for the damn toenail clippers.
Forget about hunting. I don’t want to kill anything. I’m not saying I don’t appreciate a good steak or a chicken chimichanga, but I don’t want anything to do with killing the animals. What if I were really good at hunting and never hunted? Wouldn’t that just cause more conflict in an already conflicted brain?
See what I mean about the choice to be Wonder Woman not being so cut and dried?
Would having superpowers make my sometimes crippling anxiety more cripply? Would having Wonder Woman accessories cause pain and suffering to me or those around me? Even if my intentions are nothing but good, I don’t know that an inherently clumsy person should have access to anything more dangerous than a pair of safety scissors.
Would I choose to be Wonder Woman? Would I agree to take regular me, the broken, mentally ill, hopeful, loyal, scared me and overlay me with a layer of Amazon?
Never turn down an opportunity to be Wonder Woman. Unless you can be Queen of the Universe, then do that.