It started when I confessed my affection for reality shows. Childless Courtney and I agreed that the primary source of their appeal is our seeing delusions be ruthlessly crushed. Hey, coddled 17 year old! You've been told your whole life that you're a talented singer? Grab your ankles. We're debunking and mocking that fantasy on national TV. Ha, ha, ha. Good stuff. Hey, no-talent shrew whose breasts mysteriously don't shrink as you lose 80% of your body fat! Do you honestly think you're going to parlay your 15 minutes into an acting or modeling career? Ho, ho, ho! "Has anyone actually made lasting fame out of a Survivor stint?" I asked. Courtney pointed to Elizabeth Filarski, who's now on The View. Ah yes. One out of hundreds.
I enjoyed wallowing in smugness so much that I had the same conversation the next day with Allie. "Only Elizabeth Filarski," I concluded, snorting with self-satisfaction. And then the conversation veered abruptly in a manner to which I'm becoming all too accustomed. "I have issues with her," Allie chided no one in particular. "She stopped breast-feeding her kid and, like, glorified this practice on her show."
I've said it before; I'll say it again: I'm gonna start trolling for friends at infertility support groups.