I just watched the inaugural episode of The Real Housewives of NYC...and I'm very, very frightened. Never in my life have I been so grateful that I know actual wives in that city; I plan to spend the rest of the evening calling them, begging for reassurance that if Steve and I ever hit the big time, he won't have to wear a thong speedo when we go to the beach for vacation. (We're planning another trip to the woods of central Maine this summer, where I'm pretty sure such attire would earn us a police escort to the Canadian border...)
Weird clothing aside, these women seem tense...and miserable. Rather than enjoying life in one of the most creative, exciting cities on the planet, it seems like their world is very, very small. There's not enough of anything to go around, and everyone is jostling for position. Isn't it crazy that such a lie would have so much power to people in their circumstances? I mean, how can you believe there's not enough when you have everything (and in three colors)? I can't imagine life where I'm just one missed party or botox appointment away from being forgotten.
Being the pious woman of devotion that I am, I know I should pray for these ladies. But I'm not there yet. I'm just gaping at the TV, horrified and astonished. Still though, it's fun to think about what I'd do differently in their shoes. For starters, I'd house train that poor puppy...it's not fair to anyone that he's left to pee on the hardwood!