There was a book I was obsessed with in my teenage years, called Sloppy Firsts, where our teenage heroine protagonist, Jessica Darling, writes that her mom asked about her day, to which she replies by breaking down how the day was in her favorite reality show contestants' lives. I think about this scene often.
The amount of time I spend dedicated to reality TV is, I would imagine, shocking to some people. I keep up with five franchises of The Real Housewives and I'm considering adding Potomac, Atlanta and Miami to my roster. I've been rewatching Real Housewives of New York from the beginning as I'm weaving my rug. I watch countless competition shows, ranging from interiors to make-up to cooking. And, because I simply can't get enough, I listen to a multitude of recap podcasts of many of these shows. It's a lot to stay on top of, but one should always find time for one's passions.
Amidst all this chaos, all these moving parts, there's one thing that's haunted me all throughout season 13…