The "Real" Housewives...

Okay, I'm just going to admit, right up front, that I love "reality" television!  There's nothing more I like, on a quiet day when everyone else is at work or school, then to turn on my own personal crack, and watch a marathon of the Real Housewives of Wherever while folding laundry (or, more accurately, dining with my friends Ben and Jerry).

But, the other month, I started watching a new show where thin, beautiful, well dressed moms go about town and do their errands and business with their wee tots in tow.  While the show seemed pretty silly to begin with, I started to get sucked in after a few weeks.  I imagined myself as an amazingly dressed, size 0 mommy with perfect highlights and tons of time to run around and get a spray tan and mani-pedi between adorable playdates with my angelic bunnies.  It was a fun, harmless fantasy--you know, that I had time to work out, have a shower, shop at expensive boutiques, have my handsome husband bleach and veneer my teeth instead of using Crest Whitestrips when they're on sale....

Then, came the "girl's weekend" episode.  And, I swear, I haven't stopped snickering yet.

Somehow, the reality shows that I watch love to have the "girls" go away for a wild weekend somewhere wonderful.  These ladies spend their time in limos, private airplanes (or if, heaven forbid, they fly commercial, it's always in first class!), high end hotel suites or gigantic houses on the ocean, and they drink lots of cocktails while wearing very skimpy bikinis with adorable matching cover-ups.  The amount of money and time these beauties spent waxing, buffing, and polishing just to go away for a weekend was enviable--since the last time I got anything close to a wax job was ripping a glitter sticker off my face after walking around half the day not knowing it was there.

I feel safe saying that I don't know a single mom that "vacations" like this.

This is how my last girls only weekend went.

First, there was no Gulf Stream.  There was no limo.  Usually, we're rockin' one of our minivans, but this time we got to go in one of the dad's car--a white Hummer.  It was our sparkling Kardashian moment!  It was our only Kardashian moment...

When we got to our destination (off-season at a beach with lots of outlet stores near by, which, personally ranked very high on our list of what we were looking for), we got unpacked.  There was not a single bikini--or, even a tankini--in sight.  It would take at least two hands to count the number of c-sections present, and a couple of extra feet full of toes to count the total number of children these lovely bodies had delivered. There was no way in hell we were wearing bathing suits--and, even if we had, they would have been very modest and tasteful with matching skirt bottoms.  Purchased on sale, with a coupon, and with free shipping, and worn with the intent of covering as much front-butt as possible as well as eliminating as many square inches of bare skin that we'd have to shave in order to be seen in public.  Most of us haven't had time to paint our own toenails in months, if not years, so there were no spray tans or perfect mani-pedis in sight.

Instead of rushing out in tiny slipdresses to have cocktails at a local hotspot, we pulled on our jammies and starting pouring wine.  Our jammies were not the silky, flirty little numbers from tv--I personally was wearing my favorite pink fleece pj's with the polar bears and snowflakes, and, best of all, a hole in the butt that I never got around to fixing.

I stared at the tv, watching the pretty moms pick bunk-mates and hop into their beds in full make-up and jewelry and start giggling and gossiping about the other moms.  After their requisite pillow fight.

Are you kidding me??!!

First of all, there was no full make-up in bed on our weekend, since none of us put much--if any--on during the day to begin with.  Jewelry?  Ah, maybe a wedding band... And as for the giggling and gossiping into the wee hours?  We were all too exhausted from life at that point, and my only concern was not farting or snoring so loud that I woke up my bunk mate with nightmares about being chased with a chainsaw.  And, it's really hard to giggle and gossip with a mouth guard for my teeth grinding.  Forget the pillow fights--we're the ones cleaning up afterwards, and it's really hard for me to have a pillow fight while wearing my orthopedic boot for my foot problems.

Yep.  We're definitely in the running for the Real Housewives.

While the tv moms went yachting in their itsy-bitsy bikinis and drank champagne--we did our shopping at the outlets, and got incredible deals with our coupons and no sales tax.  While the tv moms went to swanky bistros for meals, we dined on Cracker Barrel and drank Starbucks.  While the tv moms gossiped about each other and were catty--we were just so grateful to have a couple days together and not have to cut anyone else's meat.  Now, I'm not saying I wouldn't love a mani-pedi, waxing, buff, and polish--or all the awesome clothes!--but, I think our girls' weekend was pretty awesome.  And, that's all that matters around here.