This
entry is dedicated to Mallory Bateman. She knows why.
“In five sentences or
less, why do you watch Real Housewives?”
“Oh lord, why do I watch them. Ummm….I
will get back to you a little later, after I figure out how to rationalize it.
Hahaha”
The guiltiest of guilties. This cotton candy-lite sugary sweet show
gives me the same dopamine fill I could get eating a chocolate cake (yes the
whole cake.) Why waste moments on the lips and years on the hips when I can
indulge in savory, intense, drama filled action and hurt feelings to no
detriment of my own psyche or physique?? I actually had to have a serious
conversation with my husband about laying off the guilt tripping with my obsession
over this show, cuz my bitches ain’t goin nowhere. These women may be married
to their husbands for money, but I am married to them for life.
"She's not like us. She's young. She's still hopeful and kind."
"Well, ok, we're gonna ruin that."
-Housewives of New York
This show has
resulted in limitless hours of TV bingeing, a comical amount of internet rage,
unquantifiable judgment, 2 faux pop stars, 634,937 gallons of wine consumption,
132 glass-shattering screaming matches, 146 gallons of tears, numerous spinoffs, one Lady Gaga
video, several bankruptcies, literally innumerable divorces, one super model, two
prison sentences, one suicide (yes), and infinite eye rolls from baffled
husbands across the world.
As Andy Cohen laughs his way to the bank.
How has
this franchise become so successful?? Why? How has a TV show about bored, “empowered”,
overly made-up vain women with money and bones to pick become so enormous? Oh
wait, I think I just answered my own question. Personally I watch for the Alaia
dresses, Chloe bags, and sky-high heels. These ladies have closets bigger than
my first apartment. They could pay off my student loans merely with their shoe
collections. I constantly find myself asking where the women go to make sure
their makeup regime is up to date and flattering – picture perfect modern
rich-lady lewks. Like seriously though, where do you go??? It’s not like I’ll
find Erika Girardi at the Bobbi Brown counter at Nordstrom. Or even Saks! Do
you sift through elite makeup artists till you find the right look? (If anyone
knows what LVP’s fuchsia nail polish is, DM ME.) SPILL IT LADIES. The other day
I was lost in one of their repetitive, neurotic arguments just hypnotized by
how damn PERFECT Kim Richards’ hair looked. (“You Richards sisters have good
hair genes.” – she ain’t wrong.)
As a self-hating female (with decidedly NOT
good hair genes), I truly truly truly hate drama when it happens in my own
life. I feel too delicate, neutral, people pleasing, un-petty, and non
confrontational to deal with the emotional weight it brings me. Since I’ve been
watching the show I’ve been mulling around the idea of why I still watch it.
The extravagance and wealth can only keep a viewer so long – why do I find
myself more invested in the drama than I thought I would be?? Just like people
indulge themselves in personal vices, I think there is something to be said
about viewing someone else’s drama. Especially people we can disconnect to as
we do with celebrities and tabloids. We don’t know them, so their lives feel
open for judgment and critique at the expense of our own entertainment. Instead
of dealing with the suffering I might feel going through the fights they go
through, I can sit comfortably on my crumb festered couch and ask “what would *IIIIII*
do if I were Kim Zolciak when Sheree just tried to pull my wig off??” (Sheree
claims she just ‘tugged’ on it, to be fair.) Being able to criticize how these
women respond and react to situations is what brings the actual entertainment
to the show. A viewer can excitedly assess how they think they’d respond when
they’re the only cast member excluded from a trip to the Berkshires. I can’t
help but ask…..is this a new, tortured, psychological sense of entertainment?
Since the brink of reality TV, our world has become obsessed. Some of you are
too good for reality TV, but I am fascinated with the psychology behind it. Why
am I giddy at the question of To Confront or Not Confront at these petty,
overwrought arguments that somehow propel an entire season of bitchiness, brawn,
Botox, and beauty??
In case you are new to planet earth, women are extremely
complicated, nuanced creatures. Men don’t know women like women know women. A
crux of the show is ladies being decidedly offended when one is “sorry you were
offended”, when in reality we all know what that bitch’s intent was, don’t
we?!? How can she pretend she was jesting about my “Herman Munster” Louis
Vuitton shoes?? SHE WAS MAKING A DIG AND I KNOW IT. (Try and keep up.) This is
the classic “housewife apology” – being sorry for your hurt feelings, not for
what I said. Cuz you interpreted it wrongly. These women are ruthless. They
know what they’re doing, they know the scrutiny they are opening themselves up
to. They are SMART. Lisa Vanderpump’s favored dog has his own contract renewed
each year for the show. He must appear in a certain allotment of time in the
show. WUT?!? They are very aware of what they signed up for. Former ABC
producer and actual princess Carole Radziwill says she was drawn to being cast
on the show since she is naturally drawn to spectacle. That’s exactly what the
show is. It survives on the sole premise of being offended, addressing issues
at the wrong place and wrong time, exposing people’s flaws, humanism, extremism,
bitchism, and the ancient yet time-tested act of “TALK(ing) BEHIND MY F**KING
BACK!!!” (– Ramona Singer)
We watch for many reasons. Some watch to revel in
how others live, some watch to make their own problems feel minute, some watch
to get inspired by what heel width I should be wearing right now (– asking for
a friend.) THE POINT IS, my husband was slightly disturbed when I noted that
his revolt for the show is actually disgust at the female mentality. What he
sees on screen is what goes on in my head, which is what I hate about myself. I
hate that I over analyze what she said, how she said it, and what she ACTUALLY
meant when she said it, that narcissistic elitist. He’s quick to point out this
is not Reality, no, these women would not be meeting at Nobu to discuss the
nuance of an argument over what syllable exactly was emphasized when she said “Who
gon’ check me boo??” (- Sheree Whitfield) And it’s true – this is not reality.
It’s pomp and circumstance with the feminist subconscious sifted to the surface
for my own gluttonous, wheel-of-brie eating pleasure. And I’ll take it gladly,
if it means avoiding those pains in real REAL life.
At the end of the day, this
show is a frothy, fun-filled celebration of all that is girly. (“GIIIIIRRRLLLLS
TRIIIIIP!!!!”) The players on the show aren’t ones to scoff at. They are not
what makes the franchise an astonishing display of egos and money and wealth
and offense. No. What makes the whole thing sad is the fact that I recalled all
the quotes in this blog entry from memory. And that’s what the problem with
this franchise is – it’s not the cast who propels this over indulgent
self-absorption and vanity. It’s the viewer. And if being the viewer of this
sardonic display is wrong, I don’t want to be right.
This comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteMy goodness... you really have developed as a writer, haven't you?
ReplyDeleteI can't understand a bit of this show - and I don't want to, there's way too much estrogen going on, here - but I certainly appreciate your prose about it.
"Crumb-festered couch" - Hahahahaha!
"If anyone knows what LVP’s fuchsia nail polish is, DM ME"
I bet there's a Pantone value for it!