Or how I learned to shut up and love the disaster. When I was growing up, my parents didn’t let me watch a lot of TV. We didn’t have a cable subscription and the only things that were reliably on the “boob tube” were Blazers games and Bill Nye the Science Guy. Even though I was coming of age at the same time as the modern reality TV industry, I missed out on the mainstream success of juggernauts like The Real World, Survivor, Big Brother, and Laguna Beach. As a younger adult who was “above the trash” (if only I’d had the courage to embrace my authentic self…) of this television, I missed out on the emergence of the Kardashian empire, the Real Housewives, and the wide variety of the “niche lifestyle” subgenre, e.g. My Strange Addiction, True Life. In college and as a young adult, I wasn’t watching too much TV besides Game of Thrones and other HBO-style “classics”. I was actively missing out on the prime of the MTV and Bravo trash behemoths like Are You the One?, The Challenge, and Bad Girls’ Club. Finally, as an adult with a Netflix and Hulu subscription as well as a work-from-home career, I was able to partake in the endless binging of this American dumpster fire and let me tell you: I missed out. ...
