and this is not easy. You are going to judge me and you may not want to be my friend anymore.
This confession may cause me to be disowned and excluded by most of society.
I have an addiction you see. And it isn’t something that I think there is a support group for. But I think there should be because I am sure I am not alone. Though I may be the first person to openly confess to this terrible secret.
You see there is something that I do every day. Something that I do alone when nobody can see me. A thing that gets me through the day. That I silently cheer about when I have to do the late school run and not at normal time. That means I can do it “live” and not have to wait until later or even the next day when I have secretly saved it from the day before.
What is this addiction?
It is The Real Housewives of New York / New Jersey / Beverley Hills / Atlanta.
There. I have said it.
I am not interested in TOWIE or Geordie Shore or any other poor relation to these US versions.
I cannot get enough of them. An insight in to the daily bitch fest of supposedly wealthy American women go bankrupt / travel the world to argue / support the arts / spend a whole episode shopping with their daughters. Stand up for themselves when attacked by one of the others. Generally get on with their lives. We see the fights, the surgery, the dogs peeing on the carpet, the parties etc etc.
I actually screamed out loud when Simon and Alex from RHWONY started following me on Twitter. I know I am not special, they follow hundreds of thousands of people. But knowing they are out there makes me feel warm and fuzzy.
I plan my working day around it. At 3.40pm if I am not doing the school run then I am sitting in front of the TV, glued. Even when I was in London this week for a day I watched. I was ashamed that when we got back from our night out and Mr B put the TV on it was still on ITV2. I held my breathe, worried he would say “why on earth is this channel on? You have done it again, haven’t you?” It was akin to him finding a vodka bottle down the side of the sofa.
So there. I have said it. My grubby little secret is out there. I will now sit and watch my Twitter followers leave one by one.
If you are an addict too, then welcome. Let’s meet regularly. How about 3.40pm this afternoon on my sofa?
Just remember to bring the biscuits. Or if you happen to be Ramona, the Pinot.
This is my day 11 post for #NaBloPoMo where I have committed to blog every day in November