I have a confession to make.
I will unburden my soul to you, tireless Zoomer readers, and I know I shall immediately feel absolved. I watch The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills.
I get a vicarious thrill seeing how the other half lives, perched on their magnificent hilltops with the requisite expansive views and the swimming pool.
I ogle at the cougar-esque adornments surrounding these divas in the guise of bartenders, which serves as soothing eye candy for this viewer.
I am in awe as each fashionista presents themselves in a meticulous, manicured manner, which camouflages their personal angst and turmoil.
I am envious as I look at their bodies which once housed a child therein. No sign of any stretch marks as far as I can see. None of them is having a hot flash either for that matter.
I look incredulously at their well-coiffed blonde hair extensions and false eyelashes and marvel at their sculpted cheekbones, Botoxed faces and their perfectly tanned bodies.
I pay homage to their implanted lips, which now resemble sausages, and wonder if they have any feeling left in them. Ditto for the breasts but replace the word sausages with grapefruits.
I commend these drama queens for their survival skills as they always seem to be in combat mode, whether it be with their ex-husbands, their lawyers or each other. Mostly each other.
I admire them for their ability to multi-task, whether it be gushing over their lap dog of a husband, stepping out of a limousine or deciding on what to wear.
I applaud their ability to carry on a conversation, which consists mostly of monosyllables and the F-bomb. I am not convinced they can put a noun, verb and object together in one complete sentence.
And their mothering skills! Spoiling their privileged daughters to the point whereby it is guaranteed they will grow up to be obnoxious denizens of Beverly Hills themselves.
“I wish I was rich,” lamented one housewife, “so I could afford to buy my daughter more than one horse!”
Ah, I am in reality television heaven as I munch away on my salsa and chips.
Now you are probably wondering why I don’t support the home team and watch The Real Housewives of Vancouver. Well, those women are absolutely unwatchable. They are vicious, catty, nasty …I can’t use the “B” word as this is a community newspaper.
At least my gals in Cali have some endearing qualities…well, sort of.
So I decided to bring the concept home to beautiful White Rock/South Surrey and present our Zoomer version of The Real Housewives of White Rock. Our launch will be on March 21 when we will host a free fashion show at Fashion on the Edge at #7A – 15223 Pacific Avenue at 6:30 p.m.
The show will feature real women wearing real clothes. The models are all CARP members and range in age from 59 to 74. They come in all shapes and sizes and there will be no silicone in sight.
Please join us and revel in the beauty of real women.
There will be no cat-fights, no claws out… and no need for absolution.
April Lewis is the local communications director for CARP, a national group committed to a ‘New Vision of Aging for Canada.’ She writes monthly.