In recent news, I learned that The Real Housewives of Dallas is set to premiere this year. Although I’ve drifted away from the franchise lately, I might tune in for a couple of episodes, mainly to see if any familiar faces pop up. Just the other day, I caught an episode of the latest Potomac series, and it only reinforced my belief: how can any of these women truly be considered real housewives?
This isn’t a jab at them—the women are undoubtedly stunning and provide ample entertainment in the realm of television. However, I struggle to find any relatable qualities. Clearly, I don’t fit the housewife mold, despite having lived that life for over a decade. I can’t even fathom the reactions of a film crew visiting my home.
Imagine their letdown upon discovering:
- I never don extravagant ball gowns.
- My sporadic lunch outings with fellow moms lack drama, hair-pulling, or drink-throwing.
- I haven’t worn enough extensions to outfit a small community.
- International all-girls trips? Rarely on my agenda.
Instead, the cameras would capture me in the following scenarios:
- Donning comfy Ohio U. sweats all day.
- Spending hours in front of the sink, washing dishes in silence.
- Cooking dinner with greasy handprints on my sweats, as I’ve never owned an apron.
- My husband and I enjoying one date night per season at a nearby restaurant, followed by a trip to Walmart, because running errands sans kids is pure bliss.
- Hot gluing limbs on Transformers and heads on Skylanders for a good portion of my day.
- Belting out Coldplay in the car, much to my kids’ delight.
- Yelling “Stop screaming!” loudly enough to warrant an eye vessel burst at least once a week.
- Preparing lunches—still in sweats.
- Sitting at my computer for countless hours, trying to earn a living.
- Shuttling kids to and from school, with Coldplay as my soundtrack.
- Wiping bottoms—so much wiping.
- Romantic evenings filled with changing pee sheets, crafting bedtime stories, and watching Teen Titans Go! with my toddler while my husband snores in the background.
- Baking cakes and cookies daily, telling myself it’s for the kids, when in reality, it’s for me.
- Starving until 5 p.m., then indulging in cake and wine while doing laundry until dawn.
So there you have it, producers at Bravo. Consider this a heartfelt application. When you’re ready to bring back the authenticity in Real Housewives, I’m prepared for my close-up.
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In summary, my version of The Real Housewives would be anything but glamorous, showcasing the real, relatable struggles of a devoted mom rather than the glitz and drama typically associated with the franchise.
Keyphrase: Real Housewives parody
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