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Why the Real OC Housewives are Anything but Real

March 13, 2010

I joke a lot about being a “real” OC housewife but in all seriousness, those damn reality show bitches have given us real girls a bad name. From my sporadic viewing of a few episodes this season (because honestly, I couldn’t take much more than that), here are a few observations:

Tip: it helps if you play David Bowie’s song “Fame” while you read this but I hate websites that have music so you’ll either have to sing to yourself or go download it on your own.

I am not on a first name basis with my plastic surgeon (wave Alexa, Alex, whoever you are blonde Barbie-looking one with the duck lips). Hell, I don’t even have a plastic surgeon. Most women I know that live here take pride in being natural and we like ourselves that way. Shows like that breed insecurity–“look at us! We all look like blonde Barbies and we’re on TV! Maybe if you look like we do, through boob jobs, nose jobs, lipo, face lifts, lip injections, Botox, laser, blah blah blah…then you can be on TV too and show America what it’s like to be rich and vapid also.” Blech.

Sure, So Cal is known for people (women) wanting to attain a certain look of eternal youth. I get that. I wear my sunscreen. Magazines scream that to women starting at, well, tweenagers. But it seems that this show, in particular, is celebrating women who are so desperate to hang on to their immaturity, rather than their youth, that they’ve become caricatures of themselves, and snap! honey, it ain’t pretty.

I think if my boss told me that as my bonus she was going to come at me with Botox (a la annoying Vicki), I’d run far, far away.

I’d take the cash, thanks.

I know, call me crazy.

Take, for example, lone brunette Lynn. Please, could you? Her goal, as stated in the title sequence, is to look as young as her two teenage daughters, so people will mistake her for their “foxy” older sister. She states clearly that she wants to be able to wear the same jeans as her sixteen-year old. I applaud her willingness to exercise. Seriously, I do. From the comfort of my cozy sofa.

We always see her plugging away at tennis, jogging, or well, almost anything else outside where she can wear as few clothes as possible. (Mostly the camera just focuses on her boobs bouncing around.) Hey, it is good for her heart…buried under all that silicone. However, the pure vanity and competition thing she has going on with her own teenage (quite slim) daughters cannot be healthy–for any one of them. One line or wrinkle or, god forbid, appearance of cellulite, could send Lynn into a deep depression the likes of which her husband better be able to buy another new BMW on his bad credit to get her out of.

Then there is Lynn’s complete and utter lack of parenting. Even her youngest daughter (Briana? Meghan? who the hell knows) wonders why she has no limits and wishes her parents would tell her when to be home (not vice versa) and even get mad at her when she doesn’t make it home by curfew. The girl is literally begging for some parenting–really, it’s heartbreaking. Mostly they just coo at her that she makes it home safely. Gah. Her kids are typical self-involved teenagers and we see them speak disrespectfully to Lynn and her husband with absolutely no consequences when they stalk out, slam doors or come home at all hours.

Most parents I know would never let their kids get away with this shit. Sure, her kids are no different than many other teenagers, with the exception that they don’t have to work part-time jobs, are given lavish parties and luxury cars for their sixteenth birthdays and spend thousands on clothes each week at like, you know, the mall.

Listen, there are families like that here in the OC, but I don’t hang out with them and those aren’t the kind of people I want to know well or want my kids to know.

What probably killed me the most, and by killed me I mean had me in absolute stitches, was when Lynn and hubby realized they couldn’t parent their youngest darling themselves, as she was too rebellious for their tender dispositions, so they called in a “youthologist.” Now, kudos to them for bringing in help. However, check this out. A youthologist is a person, just like you or me, who took a $500 online course written by some chick named Vanessa (age 24) who has the support of the “Radical Parenting Brand” which she started. Go check out the site. I’ll wait…

That’s all I’m going to say about that.

And then there’s Tamra. This woman is so unlikable even her husband (who to be honest, comes across as a total control freak) decided to divorce her after she began hanging with the “gals” from the show, especially best friend annoying Vicki. Watching her try to cry on cue was a particular highlight this year. She definitely gets the “bad actress on a reality show” award. I won’t waste any more space here except to say this…apparently all the plastic in the world can’t hide a heart that’s three sizes too small.

On a positive note, and gosh golly gee we do need one don’t we?–there’s Gretchen, often referred to by Tamra as “the golddigger.” I actually like Gretchen. She’s a blonde beauty (of course she is) with balls. And brains. Well, that may be pushing it a little. Still, she seems to be getting by with her rich new boyfriend, Rerun…I mean, Slade (such a perfect name for this soap opera) who dumped former housegirlfriend (and brunette) Jo in the first season. After the death of Gretchen’s true love and fiance, 125-year old multi-billionaire Jeff, who left her just her giant rock & I think the condo, she seems happy riding around on her Harley in her tight leathers and showing up at the opening of an envelope. I think she’s also starting a make-up line, because gosh golly gee we all need another line of that. You go, girl.

I miss Gina. (She lost all her money in the economic downturn so they booted her. Plus she was a brunette.)

My point is this: NONE of these women represent me in any way, shape, or form. Literally. I don’t have a plastic surgeon, I don’t run around in five-inch spike heels to go to the grocery store, I don’t play tennis with my (real) boobs hanging out, (well, I don’t play tennis either) and I don’t pay someone else to parent my kids. I’m Jewish. I have red hair. I’m a Democrat. And to televise this nonsense misrepresents where I live completely. Where these particular women live (with the noted exception of the brunette Lynn–huh–I’m sure there’s some deep meaning in that) is a very exclusive gated community called Coto de Caza .

Coto is an inclusive luxury community nowhere near the beach (which is personally why I like living here), it’s 90% white, and to the one, Republican. I doubt these chicks have even heard of Santa Ana, a primarily poor area of the OC, where the majority of our food banks and homeless shelters are located. And museums, too.

Well, maybe they have actually, as it’s located right across from South Coast Plaza, one of the country’s biggest shopping malls.

So maybe, just maybe, if they get a hot Jewish liberal Democrat redheaded chick with green eyes and pale skin who lives by the beach whose boobs are real, then maybe, just maybe, I’ll stop slamming this silly show, and these shallow women with their ridiculous problems. Maybe if they display some intelligence and some…sense, I could respect them as fellow OC-ites and be able to promote a sister. Maybe, if I could feel comfortable knowing that they actually read a book of substance once in a while, I could endorse at least one of them and know in my heart that I was doing the right thing.

But you and I know that none of that is going to happen.

Reality sucks.

One Comment
  1. I miss Gina too! Not like I'm watching it or anything though. Cuz I'm not.

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