My Reality

In a year’s time I watch about twenty reality shows. They include Southern California housewives, quite a few short people shows, boy band families, cheerleaders and couples who are meeting for the first time at the alter. And while my only shame of them all, I will not apologize: anything and everything to do with the name that rhymes with farmashpeein’.

I can feel your contempt and thought about telling you yours is no greater than the disdain I feel for myself but that would be a lie. I like these shows and have been watching them long enough that I have seen their children grow up and a seemingly ultra-masculine Olympic athlete, father of ten become a woman. There are also lots of house buying shows and people living off the grid and a series about treehouses that cost more than my home. And one cooking show. Ok, so maybe my number is closer to thirty.

I could tell you that I watch these shows because I am currently not working and it kills the time. but truth be told, I watched them all when I was jetting around the country.

I do have a line although I can’t tell you what it is other than If it makes me cringe, I’m out. Who knows what attracts us to hobbies or certain books or movies or other people or TV shows? We like what we like and our guilty pleasures are just that. Although I think the guilt part in that term is usually the guilt you feel for not feeling guilty.

As I proofread this post I seriously considered deleting it. This never happens when I’m writing this blog, I put it all out there and don’t second-guess sharing the topic du jour (told you I watch a cooking show). So I’m going to push the hesitation aside and hit “Publish”. Because the reality is, this little ole blog of mine is my reality show. And I can only hope it’s your guilty pleasure.