POO NEWS: The Real Housewives of Area 51. You Can't Make This Shit Up.
Welcome to The Real Housewives of Area 51, where the lips are inflated, the faces are frozen, and nobody ages naturally. Six women, one plastic surgeon, and not a single moving forehead. Even the aliens are asking, What the fuck happened?
DR
DrShit ·
WASHINGTON, D.C. — Forget The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. Forget Orange County, Atlanta, and New Jersey. There's a new reality show in town, and judging by the latest photographs circulating around Washington, it's going to be a fucking blockbuster. Welcome to The Real Housewives of Area 51, where the faces are lifted, the secrets are classified, and the cast looks like they arrived on Earth approximately fifteen minutes before the photo shoot.
Only in the United States could we take something as ridiculous as The Real Housewives, combine it with decades of questionable plastic surgery, throw in a few women who look like they've been assembled from spare Kardashian parts, and somehow create the most believable reality show of the decade. Welcome to The Real Housewives of Area 51, where the faces are lifted, the lips are inflated, and nobody seems entirely comfortable wearing their own skin. I saw this picture and thought, holy fuck, this is practically a documentary about what happens when vanity, money, and absolutely terrible judgment get together for cocktails.
What the hell happened to aging gracefully? Seriously, when did women start thinking they needed to look like every other woman who walked out of the same plastic surgeon's office? Look at this imaginary cast. Six supposedly different personalities, yet half of them look like they were ordered from the same fucking catalog. The lips, the cheekbones, the permanently startled expressions. Everybody wants to be unique, provided they can all have the exact same face. We've reached a point where some people spend $100,000 trying to look twenty years younger and somehow end up looking like a 65-year-old pretending to be a 35-year-old pretending to be a 25-year-old. Congratulations, you just paid a small fortune to confuse the fuck out of everybody.
And what's with the obsession over lips? When did having lips that occupy a third of your face become desirable? I'm not opposed to cosmetic surgery. I'm opposed to the idea that every naturally occurring feature of the human face needs to be corrected, inflated, tightened, or fucking eliminated. I've known women in their 60s who are absolutely gorgeous without trying to erase every year they've lived. Meanwhile, cosmetic perfection culture has people terrified of smiling too hard because God forbid their face should actually move. Somewhere in America, there's probably a woman demanding a refund because her reflection accidentally expressed an emotion.
This is why The Real Housewives of Area 51 is such a perfect concept. We've already got the formula. Six women who insist they're completely authentic while competing to see who can look the least like the person they were born as. They'll spend the entire season accusing one another of being fake, which is especially entertaining considering the fucking circumstances. One will accuse another of having too much work done while sitting there with cheekbones sharp enough to open Amazon packages. Another will explain how important natural beauty is while carefully positioning herself beneath $40,000 worth of professional lighting. They'll fight over whose husband has the most money, whose surgeon is the most exclusive, and which one still has enough movement in her forehead to demonstrate actual disappointment.
Then again, look at the state of America. We've spent years wondering why Florida is shaped like a giant dick, and now we're starting to wonder whether God is making it sink because even he has had enough of the fucking nonsense. I mean, Florida alone could supply three seasons of this show without anyone needing to invent a single storyline. Between the vanity, the ridiculous public behavior, the desperate attention-seeking, and the endless supply of people convinced they're celebrities because they have 14,000 Instagram followers, the entertainment industry barely has to write scripts anymore. Just point a camera at the nearest expensive restaurant and wait for someone to start screaming about disrespect.
The saddest part is that our obsession with artificial perfection has become so normalized that we barely question it anymore. We applaud people for looking younger while quietly ignoring the fact that some of these extreme cosmetic trends make people look nothing like their younger selves. There's a massive difference between looking refreshed and looking like somebody used Photoshop on your face, printed out the results, and handed them to a surgeon as fucking instructions. I understand wanting to feel attractive. I understand wanting to maintain your appearance. What I don't understand is spending the price of a luxury car trying to remove every visible indication that you're a human being.
My ex was fascinated with cosmetic surgery, and I remember thinking how sad it was that people could become so consumed with changing themselves. Beauty is not supposed to require a lifetime subscription to an operating room. Some of the most attractive people I've met have wrinkles, gray hair, laugh lines, and confidence that didn't come out of a syringe. They look like they've lived, loved, laughed, and survived a few things. That's beautiful. You know what's not beautiful? Being so obsessed with appearing younger that your entire identity becomes a before-and-after photograph.
But back to our imaginary reality show, because I'd actually watch this shit. Not because I admire the ridiculous extravagance, but because watching six people who have spent fortunes perfecting their appearances accuse one another of being shallow would be fucking hilarious. The reunion episode alone would deserve an Emmy. Imagine the host asking, "Do you think you've changed since the first season?" and the entire cast answering no while their original photographs suggest otherwise. Nobody would recognize the cast from season one by season three, and the producers would have to start identifying everyone with fingerprints.
The show's slogan says it all: "Where the faces are lifted and the secrets are classified." That's probably the most accurate description of American celebrity culture I've seen in years. The poster is satire, but the mentality behind it is painfully familiar. We've turned getting older into something shameful and looking artificial into a status symbol. It's fucking ridiculous, and the fact that millions of people willingly chase this manufactured version of beauty is even more disturbing.
I don't know about you, but I'm perfectly happy getting older and looking like the person I've actually spent my life becoming. Wrinkles don't frighten me. Gray hair doesn't frighten me. What frightens me is the thought of waking up in the middle of the night, rolling over, and finding one of these permanently surprised expressions staring at me in the dark. I'd be halfway to the front door before realizing it wasn't an alien invasion.
The Real Housewives of Area 51. Coming soon to absolutely fucking nowhere, although judging by American television, give it six months.
www.VerbalPoo.com
Only in the United States could we take something as ridiculous as The Real Housewives, combine it with decades of questionable plastic surgery, throw in a few women who look like they've been assembled from spare Kardashian parts, and somehow create the most believable reality show of the decade. Welcome to The Real Housewives of Area 51, where the faces are lifted, the lips are inflated, and nobody seems entirely comfortable wearing their own skin. I saw this picture and thought, holy fuck, this is practically a documentary about what happens when vanity, money, and absolutely terrible judgment get together for cocktails.
What the hell happened to aging gracefully? Seriously, when did women start thinking they needed to look like every other woman who walked out of the same plastic surgeon's office? Look at this imaginary cast. Six supposedly different personalities, yet half of them look like they were ordered from the same fucking catalog. The lips, the cheekbones, the permanently startled expressions. Everybody wants to be unique, provided they can all have the exact same face. We've reached a point where some people spend $100,000 trying to look twenty years younger and somehow end up looking like a 65-year-old pretending to be a 35-year-old pretending to be a 25-year-old. Congratulations, you just paid a small fortune to confuse the fuck out of everybody.
And what's with the obsession over lips? When did having lips that occupy a third of your face become desirable? I'm not opposed to cosmetic surgery. I'm opposed to the idea that every naturally occurring feature of the human face needs to be corrected, inflated, tightened, or fucking eliminated. I've known women in their 60s who are absolutely gorgeous without trying to erase every year they've lived. Meanwhile, cosmetic perfection culture has people terrified of smiling too hard because God forbid their face should actually move. Somewhere in America, there's probably a woman demanding a refund because her reflection accidentally expressed an emotion.
This is why The Real Housewives of Area 51 is such a perfect concept. We've already got the formula. Six women who insist they're completely authentic while competing to see who can look the least like the person they were born as. They'll spend the entire season accusing one another of being fake, which is especially entertaining considering the fucking circumstances. One will accuse another of having too much work done while sitting there with cheekbones sharp enough to open Amazon packages. Another will explain how important natural beauty is while carefully positioning herself beneath $40,000 worth of professional lighting. They'll fight over whose husband has the most money, whose surgeon is the most exclusive, and which one still has enough movement in her forehead to demonstrate actual disappointment.
Then again, look at the state of America. We've spent years wondering why Florida is shaped like a giant dick, and now we're starting to wonder whether God is making it sink because even he has had enough of the fucking nonsense. I mean, Florida alone could supply three seasons of this show without anyone needing to invent a single storyline. Between the vanity, the ridiculous public behavior, the desperate attention-seeking, and the endless supply of people convinced they're celebrities because they have 14,000 Instagram followers, the entertainment industry barely has to write scripts anymore. Just point a camera at the nearest expensive restaurant and wait for someone to start screaming about disrespect.
The saddest part is that our obsession with artificial perfection has become so normalized that we barely question it anymore. We applaud people for looking younger while quietly ignoring the fact that some of these extreme cosmetic trends make people look nothing like their younger selves. There's a massive difference between looking refreshed and looking like somebody used Photoshop on your face, printed out the results, and handed them to a surgeon as fucking instructions. I understand wanting to feel attractive. I understand wanting to maintain your appearance. What I don't understand is spending the price of a luxury car trying to remove every visible indication that you're a human being.
My ex was fascinated with cosmetic surgery, and I remember thinking how sad it was that people could become so consumed with changing themselves. Beauty is not supposed to require a lifetime subscription to an operating room. Some of the most attractive people I've met have wrinkles, gray hair, laugh lines, and confidence that didn't come out of a syringe. They look like they've lived, loved, laughed, and survived a few things. That's beautiful. You know what's not beautiful? Being so obsessed with appearing younger that your entire identity becomes a before-and-after photograph.
But back to our imaginary reality show, because I'd actually watch this shit. Not because I admire the ridiculous extravagance, but because watching six people who have spent fortunes perfecting their appearances accuse one another of being shallow would be fucking hilarious. The reunion episode alone would deserve an Emmy. Imagine the host asking, "Do you think you've changed since the first season?" and the entire cast answering no while their original photographs suggest otherwise. Nobody would recognize the cast from season one by season three, and the producers would have to start identifying everyone with fingerprints.
The show's slogan says it all: "Where the faces are lifted and the secrets are classified." That's probably the most accurate description of American celebrity culture I've seen in years. The poster is satire, but the mentality behind it is painfully familiar. We've turned getting older into something shameful and looking artificial into a status symbol. It's fucking ridiculous, and the fact that millions of people willingly chase this manufactured version of beauty is even more disturbing.
I don't know about you, but I'm perfectly happy getting older and looking like the person I've actually spent my life becoming. Wrinkles don't frighten me. Gray hair doesn't frighten me. What frightens me is the thought of waking up in the middle of the night, rolling over, and finding one of these permanently surprised expressions staring at me in the dark. I'd be halfway to the front door before realizing it wasn't an alien invasion.
The Real Housewives of Area 51. Coming soon to absolutely fucking nowhere, although judging by American television, give it six months.
www.VerbalPoo.com