The Real Housewives of Middle America

I’ll admit it.  Sometimes I stay up late at night and watch the most vapid television shows known to man.  Some of them are completely inane, even by reality show standards (wait, did I just pair the words “reality shows” and “standards” in the same sentence?).  My favorite late night indulgence has become Bravo.  Not only does that channel offer some of the best (and by best, I don’t mean quality!), late night programming on television, but if you miss a show, they play it all night and several times a week so that you can catch it again.

The other night, while looking through the schedule of programs I noticed one that caught my eye.  It was a preview for “The Real Housewives of Atlanta”.  Now, if you aren’t familiar with the whole “Real Housewives” conglomerate, let me enlighten you.  It all started with “The Real Housewives of Orange County” a reality show that followed five rich women in, you guessed it, Orange County, CA.  That was followed by “The Real Housewives of New York City, and now, apparently “The Real Housewives of Atlanta”.

Here’s the thing.  These women aren’t like any of the “real housewives” I’ve ever met.  They live in HUGE houses, drive top of the line cars, wear designer clothes, host gala events, and, oh yeah, most of them have jobs, which goes against the entire idea of being a housewife.  These women would never survive if they were expected to be a housewife in the rest of the world.  Drop one of those women off in some town in Middle America and she would be cowering in a corner of the first Wal-Mart she was forced to drag three screaming kids through.  And where the hell is Wife Swap when I want to prove a point?

Now I find myself wondering, could a reality show ever succeed if it portrayed the reality that most of us live with?  What would it take to make “The Real Housewives of Middle America” a hit?  True, it would lack some of the glitz and product endorsement opportunities of our more financially endowed sisters, but deep down, don’t we really have similar lives?

I submit that I do very similar things during my days as they do, only on a smaller scale.  We have the same joys and the same aggravations it’s really just a matter of perspective.

For instance:

  • I have a gardener and, yes, I’ve been known to nag at him.  But, it’s his house too and the dog that’s crapping in the front yard isn’t mine alone.
  • I too support the arts.  Every year I buy extra crayons, markers and supplies for the entire classroom.
  • I enjoy the theater.  I actually attended a gala event at the local theater.  OK, it was opening night for the new 14-plex cinema and we were only invited because The Hubbin helped build it, but still…
  • I enjoy shopping and I prefer brand names.  That’s right, I prefer to spend the extra money for Del Monte instead of saving a few pennies on the “store” brand.  I admit it; I can be a wasteful consumer.
  • I am involved in community service.  I gave all the clothes that didn’t sell at my yard sale to the Catholic Outreach.  I supported the building of a rehab for meth addicts in our community (I supported it in a “yeah, I’d support the building of a rehab” kind of way, not a “yeah, I’ll donate a huge amount of money to build a rehab” way).  I’ve attended a ball for charity, and even spent over $100 on silent auction items to support the neutering of cats.  Hey, after 3 pregnancies, I’ll sign up for any neutering project.
  • I have a pool boy (aka The Hubbin) who refuses to wear a Speed-o when cleaning the pool. He does have a point, it’s a little pool he can clean it without getting his jeans wet.  He just has to tip it over and refill it.  I just think the Speed-O would be a nice touch.
  • I consider myself a “foodie” and enjoy attending soirées hosted by my family and friends.  It’s true that these events usually involve pizza and a keg but sometimes they go very chic and add one spinach & feta pizza instead of the usual stack of 32 meat lovers.  And as a proper guest, I always bring the hostess a box of the best wine in town.

So, you see, we really are very similar.  And it’s time that the real “Real Housewives” of America stand up and demand to be appreciated for the ranch-style home owning, Chevy driving, Levi wearing, warehouse store shopping, domestic goddess lives we’re leading.

4 Replies to “The Real Housewives of Middle America”

  1. The neutering comment? Have you ever shot sharp cheddar cheese out of your left nostril? It’s unpleasant, and now I know that.

  2. This is a hilarious post! First lol of the day. 🙂

    I live a little north of Orange Co., and those women are just…embarrassing. I don’t know anyone like that! Well, I know a couple Botoxed moms, but other than them, I mean.

  3. Absolutely wonderful!!!!! You have hit the nail on the head 🙂

  4. […] I pulled up my soapbox, perched on top of it with my laptop and created a long, rambling post about “The Real Housewives of Middle America”.  Before I got too far into my post (3rd paragraph, last sentance) I, rather bitchely, stated that […]

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