Breaking Up Is Hard To Do - The Real Housewives

My name is Eileen and I am addicted to the Real Housewives.

While walking on campus the other day with a friend, I went to offer a metaphor to our conversation, which was connected with Real Housewives (New Jersey to be specific, but I have a thing for the New York ladies, too.) I cupped my hand to my mouth and spoke in a bare whisper as if I were sharing a top military secret. I was embarrassed to admit that I am a viewer. But when we find someone else who watches, it is as if we discover a long lost sister - welcome to the coven.

I watch because I am a voyeur, that's it, nothing more. And I have given a part of my soul to these bitches with my own blessing. As I watched the NY reunion last night I paused to reflect and examine my sins. No intervention required - I see the light. The show's trashy fun brings me down. I thought to myself, "I could be reading. Or spending time with my husband. Or gardening. Or cleaning the cat litter box."

Watching these women who call themselves friends just isn't fun any more, and I vow that I shall no longer stand witness. I refuse to condone the glaring looks, the mean-spirited jabs, the disloyalty, the constant interjecting into each others' sentences. I'm done.

I WILL miss the great clothes and awesome shots of New York City, and I'll miss those Jersey girls' lack of taste, although I sort of like Sonja on New York - she seems like a nice girl. But that's it - it's over. I'll be back tomorrow to "share" again until I no longer have the urge to flip the channel to Bravo. One day at a time.