TV makes me feel bad about myself, which is a bummer because I like TV.
When I met my husband, I didn’t own a television. But he worked in TV and his cable bill was a tax write-off.
So I jumped in and soon found myself crying, holding my newborn K-Pants, as I watched Catelynn and Tyler give baby Carly up for adoption on 16 and Pregnant. My friend Charity calls it White Trash Masterpiece Theater.
Then MTV launched Jersey Shore, and White Trash Masterpiece Theater got white-trashier. It was awesome.
When you need to turn your brain off and take a hit of superfine sugar to the cerebral cortex, TV is there for you.
These days I’m more of a Good Wife, Top Chef, Parenthood, and Modern Family kind of girl. There was a good dose of The Real Housewives of New Jersey thrown in there until Teresa got real crazy.
But I’ve been trying to turn the TV off more. It’s not the shows. It’s the commercials.
To be specific, it’s what I see in myself through the commercials that makes me want to beg my doctor for Wellbutrin.
I know the kind of research that goes into targeting the right demographic and then pumping them full of ads that will get them to do things. And I don’t like what the market researchers see in me.
It came to a head when I sat through the 900th commercial for Disney’s straight-to-DVD release Secret of the Wings, where Tinker Bell apparently meets her long-lost sister.
Or maybe it was the Eggo commercial where the crazy mom in the Richard Simmons sweats feeds her children multigrain waffles; or maybe the Swiffer commercial where cleaning becomes so easy that Mom has enough time to scare her kids with a cucumber facial: “It’s me, Mommeeeeeeee!”
And after one such commercial I looked down and I was wearing a cardigan.
It was a cute cardigan with bright leggings and brown suede boots. But still…
And it’s not the only cardigan I own.
Secretly I want to be part of the coveted 18- to 24-year-old male demographic. I want to see ads for Axe body spray, Old Spice, and World of Warcraft.
You’re thinking: “It ain’t happening sister.”
And I’m thinking, Thank god we watch a lot of college football.
But that train’s almost left the station, and baseball doesn’t start again until April. By that time I may have purchased the entire Glade Plug-in winter scents collection.