Like any good reality TV fan, I have tested the waters of MOST of the reality shows out there. Proud? Not at all, in fact I'm a little ashamed; but we can't change who we are so I just embrace it and roll with each new season and all it has to offer. The Bachelor/Bachelorette, Bachelor Pad, and The Apprentice all merit a late night wrestle for the remote with Coach, but there are some that just don't deserve the space on my DVR: The Hills, Swamp People (or something similar to that name), Ice Road Truckers, and I have to include with the swampers, Desperate Housewives of ANY CITY. I tried, really I did, but I just can't get into it. I mean, really, does having money and wishing for stardom make every lady crazy and mean? Because that's the picture we're getting from New Jersey, Beverly Hills, and yes, even the ATL. I know plenty of Real Housewives, heck I am one, and none of them act the way those ladies do on Bravo.
For example, real housewives actually ARE wives, not divorcees, girlfriends, or worse.
They actually have houses, not hotel suites, condominiums, or swanky pads paid for by who knows whom.
At the Y, it's less about style and more about sweat. Most of the couture we sport has a built-in sports bra. And there's not a whole lot of champagne and wine sipping going on all day. We need WATER in those water bottles!
I've never seen a real housewife flip a table; they do flip tires, though.
We don't race to brunch at chic little hot spots where the paparazzi congregate, we race to get the best treadmills for an hour long run.( Now sometimes that DOES get a little ugly, right Shelby?).
Real Housewives at the YMCA don't meet for tennis lessons with foreign tennis pros named Enrique; Real Housewives of the YMCA are stuck with me teaching cardio tennis and brandishing Coach's whistle!
Real Housewives of the Y clip coupons and drink free coffee in the Y lobby because, love it as they do, Starbucks does NOT have childcare. The Y, does!
Those same housewives drive minivans, tote diaper bags, and DON'T show up for a great spin class with a face by Merle Norman. Imagine wiping down THAT bike!
And finally, except for the realization of an expired coupon for cereal or a filled up spin class, I hardly ever hear the Y ladies swear like sailors. I can't hear a word of the TV ladies' ranting and raving and hissy fits (they only have those in Atlanta,) for all the bleeping Bravo has to do. So at the end of the episode I'm not REALLY sure whose side I'm on anyway. Oh well, until the Y starts offering a group class that teaches hair pulling, swearing, and furniture tossing, I guess I'll have to find some other reality show to fill my Housewife boycott. That shouldn't be too hard, huh? Oh, and we won't have to worry about any awkward camera shots in the locker rooms. Whew!
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