I have a confession to make. I watch the Real Housewives series. I mean, I am a bit obsessed with it. And I’m not just talking one or two locations. I really couldn’t tell you which group of women I love to hate the most. New York, New Jersey, Beverly Hills – I watch them all.
I’m not sure why I love them so much. Truthfully, I spend most of the time yelling at the screen. These women disgust me, and I just can’t get enough of them.
I often wonder why they don’t do a Real Housewives of the Main Line. After much thought (okay, not that much thought), I’ve decided it’s because the general public would be bored after one episode. The money is there, but really, how many tennis matches and lunches at the Country Club could you stand to watch.
I’ve contemplated what my life would look like if a camera crew followed me around.
The Real Housewife of Rosemont:
Walk the dogs
Clean the house
Throw in some laundry
Pick up the dry cleaning
Quick stop to Genuardi’s for dinner
Pay the bills
Walk the dogs again
Chauffeur the kids to soccer/swimming/volleyball/religious ed class (depending on the day)
Fold the mountain of clothes that have piled up on the window seat
Help with homework
Fall asleep watching Real Housewives of Beverly Hills in bed in my flannel pants and sweatshirt
Really, who wouldn’t want to watch that every week?
I could switch it up some days to make it exciting. I do have some life. Those PTO meetings can get rowdy – just bring up lice and watch those moms come to life.
Or maybe they would like to follow me to my father’s doctor’s appointment or my book club meeting.
And there is the occasional luncheon – at Cozi’s. Can’t beat a TBM sandwich and diet coke with the girls.
That’s my reality. I wear denim, not diamonds. I don’t have a chauffeur; I am the chauffeur. I drink diet coke not champagne, and my housekeeper hasn’t shown up in 21 years. (I’ve given up on her!)
I guess that’s why I love the Real Housewives series. It’s not my reality. In fact, I doubt it is even these women’s realities, but it gives us a peak at how “the other half” lives. It gives us an escape from our world, and some days, that’s kind of nice.