Folks, for someone who typically don’t engage in the reality show shenanigans, and ultimately get caught up, well, they get pissed off. Who are they, you ask. With great reluctance, I raise my right hand to confess, that would be me. I’ve been trying to keep that reality about myself in the closet but it’s been eating at me and I could use a bit of help.
That one and only reality show I’ve put committed time to is Basketball Wives. See, in making this confession to y’all, I had to confront some startling realities about myself. That is, folks, if I were somewhat popular in internet circles, this piece of writing would promote a show that I hate to love watching. And for my own sake, I readily admit, that if this particular post puts the digital radar on me for loathing the glorification of suppose-be-real TV, I would strike a pose for the paparazzi with those Basketball Wives come rain, sleet or snow. Just tell me where to be and I’m there with Christmas lights on, baby. I ain’t playing.
See folks, reality TV ain’t about fifteen fabulous moments in the spotlight. It’s about getting noticed. Period. And you gotta do crazy shit to keep your name out there. I just gotta deliberate on just far I’m willing to go before I step my ass out there. I was telling Little Totsy I was gonna do a vlog and how I was gonna set it up and all and the child told me, “Mommy, pleeeease,” so I’m plotting an alternate plan. Now, I thought of sending my cover work to Women’s Wear Daily Magazine and Vanity but I don’t think they’d be all that interested since it’s been done before.
That week the big fight ensued on Basketball Wives, you would’ve been utterly embarrassed to see me trying to make sure I hadn’t missed seeing those women folk make a spectacle of themselves. To give you insight on how much I was immersed in the propaganda, I was watching previews from the previous week and thought I had missed the show when this big fight took place. Immediately, I got on the computer and “liked” Basketball Wives on Facebook in order to make a self-righteous comment and see the fight I thought I’d missed.
Shit, turned out I hadn’t missed it after all and I didn’t spoil it by clicking the video to see the fight. I waited patiently, like one would want to watch a movie with a good plot unfold. I wanted to hear dialogue of she-said-she-said stupid shit so I could make an intellectual assessment of sensationalized television that demoralizes African American women from my freaking ivory tower. Yes, I did. See, this shit all started with me passing through the den to get to the kitchen, which was wrong in and of itself ’cause my ass shouldn’t have been eating at no 9 o’ damn clock at night. Those loud heifers started grabbing my attention and next thing you know, I’m tuning into the shit like clockwork.
Folks, I so want to be better (pounding the kitchen table) but I’ve been re-programmed to feeling a sense of enjoyment at watching a reality show that’s everything but reality, on some level anyway. The thing with that is, some of it is real ’cause like us, they’re real folks and the one woman who took quite a licking in that fight is suing the licker.
Hmph, I really fault my mother for this affinity I have to a show like this. I mean, if I’d never been immersed in the world of wrestling way back when, going to see live matches and all, I wouldn’t be addicted to that show. This is one flaw I refuse to take responsibility for. In the meantime, while the show’s had its season finale and no other reality shows have appealed to me, I’ll be able to pull myself from the abyss of reality TV.