It’s Sunday, 11:30am and I’m compelled to make a confession. I never watch Reality TV so if you tell anyone- I kill you. I will go to your house and beat you senseless, cut off your head then kill you. I’m going to be bold, like wearing white after Labor Day or wearing socks with sandals, declaring only to followers because I think you know the true me.
I watch “Say Yes to the Dress.”
It hooked me from the first credits. The beauty of that special day along with romance and fashion, yet reeking of family conflict, shaken not stirred, friends, in-laws, loved and hated, combined with a huge monetary component, often someone else’s money, for something some of the brides have yearned years, even decades to have, some spiteful, willing to sell out a friend in a heartbeat in the name of love makes me want to grab a beer and kick back in my Lazy-Boy. Throw in the editing and production staff that are willing to manipulate people’s emotions for their own gain and it is reality television at its best.
I await, ready to answer out loud for the bride when they’re asked the big question, as if asked to marry all over again, “So, tell me, what will it be? Are you saying yes to the dress?” “Yes! Yes! Yes!”
OMG, I got to go. It’s coming on again. It’s an episode with a drag queen bridesmaid.
I may never watch the NFL Pre-game again.