Okay, I admit it. I have become a fan of reality TV. Oh, I know this may not seem like a big deal to some people, like mass murderers, drug addicts, and postal workers, but it bothers me a lot. You see, I used to be one of those people who would never condescend to watch reality shows. I thought they were mindless drivel. (Unlike The Partridge Family, The Brady Bunch, and Adam-12, which I watched faithfully when I was a child. No reality show could match up to the clever and perceptive writing on these shows. And let's not forget the intellectual stimulation of Star Trek!) But, I digress.
I was proud that I'd never seen even one episode of Survivor or The Bachelor. I felt smart. And as each new reality show was introduced, Fear Factor, Joe Millionaire, Survivor again, and the all-important America's Next Top Model, I scoffed anew. Sometimes this made me swallow a little saliva, and choke, and that was embarrassing. But I could never be as embarrassed as the people who washed out in the first episode of whichever show they were on.
So I continued to feel superior. But then I happened to catch a Trading Spaces marathon. Now, I love to decorate my house. In three years, I've painted six times and rearranged the bedrooms eight times. I just had to watch this show. Soon I was ignoring my kids for hours every Saturday night, because I had to get my TS fix. Straw on the walls! Furniture made out of garbage! Beds on chains! I loved it. I still was working hard to convince myself that it was at least moderately educational, (not like those other reality shows.)
Then American Idol began. I love to watch singers, so of course I watched this show too. Never mind that there is very little actual singing on the show, I was hooked. What will Simon say this time? Did that woman really think she could sing? Does the phrase, "can't carry a tune in a bucket" mean anything to these hopefuls? Apparently not. But it turns out that, while seeming harmless, these shows are gateway shows, leading the user - I mean viewer- to even seedier pursuits. Soon I found myself watching The Newlyweds. Ha! That Jessica Simpson is so funny! Can she really be that dumb?
Finally I began my slide toward the bottom. I caught the auditions for the Partridge Family remake. And Gilligan's island. Late at night, I surfed VH1 for countdowns of the 100 ugliest dresses at awards shows (saw a lot of Pamela Anderson in that one), 25 strangest celebrity body piercings (Pamela again), and 32 most drastic star surgeries (guess who). As I sat watching Pamela Anderson's biography, I could actually feel my IQ dropping. Fortunately, one of my kids walked in, breaking the spell, and I was able to quickly switch to the Discovery Channel. Good old T Rex, mightiest dinosaur. He never needed a makeover or extreme plastic surgery. You won't catch him jumping onto a helicopter ladder from a moving boat, or eating things we'd never touch... oh, wait.
I'm in recovery now. Although I am eagerly awaiting next season's American Idol, complete with Coke® product placement so blatant I am determined to drink Pepsi, just to spite them, I can honestly say I've cut down on my late night treks through the VH1 and E! wastelands. I hardly ever watch Extreme Makeover, and that Fear Factor episode I saw was just a fluke - and so was the second one.
