I recently heard that The Real Housewives of Dallas is set to premiere this year. While I’ve drifted away from the franchise in recent times, I might just tune in to see if any familiar faces pop up—though, let’s be real, that’s probably wishful thinking. I caught an episode of that new Potomac edition recently, and it just reinforced my thoughts: How can these women really be labeled as real housewives?
Now, don’t get me wrong; they’re all stunning and provide plenty of entertainment for viewers. But relate to them? Not a chance. I’m definitely not your typical housewife, despite living that life for over a decade. The thought of a camera crew showing up at my door? Hilarious!
Picture their faces when they find out:
- I never step out of the house in glamorous gowns.
- My rare lunch outings with other moms don’t involve hair-pulling or drink tossing.
- I’m not sporting enough fake hair to outfit a small army.
- I don’t jet off for girls’ trips every few weeks.
Instead, the cameras would capture me:
- Rocking my comfy Ohio U. sweats all day long.
- Standing at the sink, washing dishes for hours on end, completely silent.
- Cooking dinner while sporting greasy handprints on my sweats because aprons aren’t my style.
- Enjoying our one date night per season at a restaurant close enough that we can see our house.
- Hot gluing together toy robots and Ninja Turtles for at least 12 minutes daily.
- Singing along to Coldplay at the top of my lungs in the car.
- Yelling “Stop screaming!” loudly enough to burst a blood vessel at least once a week.
- Making school lunches, still in my sweats.
- Spending hours in front of the computer, trying to earn a living while enjoying some peace and quiet.
- Driving the kids to and from school, with Coldplay blasting in the background.
- Wiping little behinds—so much wiping!
- Experiencing “romantic” nights filled with changing pee sheets, crafting bedtime stories, and watching Teen Titans Go! with a toddler while my husband snores beside me.
- Baking cakes and cookies daily, claiming it’s for the kids, but let’s be honest, it’s really for me.
- Starving until 5 p.m., then indulging in cake and wine while doing laundry until dawn.
So there it is, Bravo. This is my official audition. When you’re ready to bring back the “real” in Real Housewives, I’ll be here, ready for my close-up!
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In summary, while my life may not fit the glamorous reality of “The Real Housewives,” it’s certainly relatable in its own, messy way.