Television for Woman

February 8, 2011 § Leave a comment

I’ve been procrastinating writing something here, and I’ve been telling myself it’s because I have nothing interesting to talk about. I haven’t been doing much these last few days, and what I have done isn’t really blog-worthy*. Or is it?

Blair Thornburgh was just an innocent college student with a semi-promising future until she met the man who would murder her, beat her, cheat on her, and kidnap her daughter, in that order, in the Lifetime Original Movie Silent Screaming Seduction: The Blair Thornburgh Story.

Yes. Lifetime movies. It sounds like parody, but these are the tropes. Woman gets beaten! Woman gets cheated on! Woman crusades to save her daughter from Teen Pregnancy! Woman always has a Really Nice Kitchen! Woman is murdered, possibly in Really Nice Kitchen! Woman has sassy ethnic friend! And all in the same movie!

Oh god, it’s so shameful. I can’t even explain why I like these movies so damn much. It’s a different kind of enjoyment than I get from reading romance novels (I actually like those, y’see, and I don’t care to justify that right now), but it’s still a few steps back from ironic. They are goddamn mesmerizing. When I was laid up over winter break, my cheeks stuffed with bloody gauze after a quadruple wisdom-tooth-ectomy, I refused to watch anything else. I don’t even think it was the drugs. My mother, bless her soul, did not assume I had incurred brain damage from the anaesthetic, and instead indulged me, her drooling, swollen daughter, by sitting by the couch and rolling her eyes at Love Sick: Confessions of a Sex Addict.

The oodles of free time afforded me by the recent snowstorm have allowed me to delve further into the genre. Under the influence of 1/3 of a weak hot toddy, my friends and I purchased a 4-pack of “Moms to the Rescue” flicks on iTunes**. We guffawed heartily at a 40-year-old woman posing as 13-year-old jailbait in Defending Our Kids: The Julie Posey Story and more or less slept through She’s Too Young, which was about gonorrhea, I think. The Pregnancy Pact was actually bad enough to be infuriating, with its idiotic teenagers with names like “Karissa” who used phrases like “buy condoms in secret so nobody will ever know” and the irritatingly invasive “reporting” perpetrated by Thora Birch’s character whose name I forget. For the Love of Nancy was a throwback to the early days of Lifetime, when they were much more After-School-Special-y and the internet didn’t exist as a tool for spreading anorexia. Every time the rail-thin titular character turned down a sandwich, I gamely chomped away at tortilla chips in a kind of snack-food schadenfreude.

Now you know my not-so-secret shame. But I can quit any time I want! As long as I can watch My Stepson, My Lover first!

*Given that blogs are, by definition, repositories of meaninglessness, this is saying something.
We only wanted one of the movies, but if one is $4.99 and 4 are $9.99…do the math. It’s savings!


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