What can I say? When it comes to the Real Housewives, I am a sucker. SUCKER. I cannot get enough. I know it isn't good for me. Mindless television. Voyeurism into the lives the rich and pissed off. Oh the drama. The Louis Vuitton handbags. The vehicles that are worth more than my husband and I make in an entire year. The face lifts, personal trainers, sprawling homes, cat fights, bad music, family feuds, fancy trips and endless, endless cocktails.
I have to admit, there is a sting of jealousy when I see these women fly off in private jets, only to arrive in Paris and drop $20K on a single shoe shopping adventure. It sure looks nice, but we all know that money can't buy you happiness. And none of these well dressed, well traveled, well pampered ladies are happy right? Bah. I don't know.
Tonight's episode of The Real Housewives of Atlanta featured a baby shower (pictured above) for one of the women. A baby shower for 150 of her closest friends. A baby shower with a dress code, (floppy hats and white gloves.) A baby shower with ballerinas and an open bar. A baby shower that probably cost more than my wedding. Damn. I bet she got a lot of good gifts, and the thing is, she doesn't need them. With money like that she can buy all the cashmere receiving blankets and silver spoons she wants. I wish those ladies had come to my baby shower. Maybe then my kids wouldn't have had their diapers changed on a rickety old hand-me-down, out of style (gasp) change table. Perhaps then they would have slept in one of those elegant bassinets from The Land of Nod with a beautiful gauzy canopy overhead.
Then again, at least my kids are happy. At least I wasn't so vein that I hired a surrogate to bare my babies (True story for Real Housewives of Beverly Hills). At least my kids don't call a full time live in nanny "mommy." Right?
Silver lining folks. I don't want to be a Real Housewife. I just want to be invited to one of their baby showers, and own at least one pair of Jimmy Choos.