Coming out of the Real Housewives Closet


Every so often – not every night, not even every week, I watch a version of the Real Housewives. I’m not addicted or anything. It’s not like I HAVE to watch it.

Most of the time I just flick on for a moment – in between watching a documentary on the migratory patterns of whales and a symphony broadcast from Albert Hall. It usually happens when my husband and kids aren’t in the room. I’m really just flicking. It’s just a snippet that I see. I don’t even know all their names and I can stop any time I want. Really.

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