For some unknown reason I have become completely addicted to watching fictional T.V characters live their dramatic fictional lives and I find myself neglecting my own life so that I can become involved in theirs. Their problems are my problems, their relationships are relatable to mine or ones I wish I had, their houses are nicer than mine, their clothes are more expensive, their food is healthier but they make it look delicious.
Forty minutes later the theme tune plays and the episode is over, I have to wait for the next one to play and in that moment I realize my tea has gone cold, I have no food in my fridge and if it was a salad I know it would taste like shit, my life is arguably just as dramatic but theirs is dramatic in a cute way and mine is a disaster, then it dawns on me: I am still in my pyjamas in the afternoon, I am a student and I haven’t done any work but I persistently say to myself “just one more episode and then I’ll do work” three episodes later I might say “I’ll read and watch this at the same time”…two episodes after that and my film text books are looking distinctly unread and there is a blank sheet of A4 lined that pushes me further into their fiction world and delusional thinking.
The strange thing about these fictional women and my delusional thinking is that they have such stressful lives and in many episodes they don’t sleep or hardly sleep, yet they are up at the crack of dawn with perfect hair and a latte. I am struggling to drag myself out of bed as of late, and at first I thought it was just a bad routine but the older I’m getting the more I’m accepting my laziness, these fictional women are like robots.
I’ve been dealt a lot of shitty hands in my life and after every dramatic or traumatic event; I have religiously had a meltdown while denying hair brushes and personal hygiene are important. Who wants to get up at 6AM and greet the day when your whole life is falling apart and you question the point in your existence?
I both love and despise their unrealistic habits, I’m sure that there are many women who can operate in this way but I haven’t met one yet. I also haven’t met a girl who actually enjoys wearing heels to a supermarket, and this is because other women will look at you and judge you, they will judge you out of jealousy and judge you because you don’t NEED to wear heels to a supermarket and you’re making me feel bad in my trainers and sweats.
There are two series that are making me question if I actually deserve my vagina or if I should give up the charade and become a lazy unkempt teenage boy, like Kathy Burke in Kevin and Perry.
The offending shows are: Pretty Little Liars and Revenge.
Pretty Little Liars follow a group of girls in high school who have an unknown villain exposing all of their secrets and messing with their lives, if one of them does anything, this nasty person magically knows and uses it as leverage against them. This person murders people, injures them, screws with their families and their relationships, but there they are at 7AM with perfect curls and dresses. Yeah ok, it’s a T.V show and the ‘well duh’ moment is out the window at this point because I have cried WITH these girls, I am involved and I don’t care that it isn’t real.
Why can’t I be like that? Why can’t I say to myself, someone is trying to kill me and systematically dismantle my life but damn I look good, can anyone? My relationship is falling apart and I have been up all night crying, but I am still going to study for my test and my magic fatigue fighting foundation will make sure everyone else is none the wiser.
They look like they could go out on the town, but they are just going to school. I guess a lot of underage girls look like that, especially if you go to see a horror film on a Friday night. I see a lot of teenage girls done up to the nines just to go Cineworld, even if they are old enough to see the film and honestly, they look ridiculous so why do I want to look like fictional ridiculous underage girls at 22 years of age? Even when I actually go out on the piss I don’t wear heels and a dress, it isn’t practical. My feet hurt and it invites drunken men to grab me more than usual and then to top it off my heels make me taller than the average basketball player. So why do I find myself watching this programme into the early hours of the morning and then thinking, well if Aria can go to bed at 3AM and wake up looking glamorous with a functioning brain then so can I?
Revenge is another series that makes me want to remove my uterus and grow a penis, Emily Thorn/Amanda Clark is the perfect combination of a woman who can act like a man but still look like a woman and it makes me sick. Here is a person who has manipulated her way into the Hamptons to seek revenge on the people who framed her father and she does it all with a perfect manicure and early morning swims.
This woman wakes up and eats a bowl of fruit or something healthy and swims and then goes about her day lying to everyone she knows. I would collapse into a fit of paranoia and eat a burger, I would forget who I’ve lied to about what and blow my cover. The salt water would make my hair go insane, yet she strides into a room (in heels) with a glossy sheen to her hair, either she has an amazing leave in conditioner or I need to accept that I will never be that organized and that it isn’t real.
Why do I keep imagining myself exacting revenge on all the bad eggs in my life, or not in my life should I say? Why do I think that I can be a wealthy, beautiful woman who lives a total lie yet is still able to get up early, eat healthy and go for a swim? When things get slightly tough I wake up at noon and decide to eat all day rather than go to the gym.
A few hours ago I got a Tesco home delivery because I couldn’t be bothered to walk down the road and restock my fridge but I forget all that when I watch Revenge and catch myself making grand plans for tomorrow. Tomorrow I will get up and do something constructive, tomorrow I will be extremely studious, tomorrow I will go to the gym. Tomorrow, I will realistically get up late for work or a lecture and skip a shower so I can at least arrive on time.
All I want is simple reassurance that other women feel this way, I can’t get over my addiction and I can’t change my ugly lazy life. There is still time for you, if you find this blog post ringing true then stay away from these television series before they suck you into having low self-esteem that you never knew you had. Anyway, I better go, Sex and the City season three is calling me….Fuck.