Married To Medicine

I don’t know about you, but insomnia feels like that friend from abroad who cheekily invites herself for a week armed with one suitcase stuffed with entitlement, the other oozing of Eau de Over-indulgence. Difficult to dodge and impossible to throw out, it makes a sloth pace back and forth at 100 miles per hour. So when lack of sleep comes to haunt my nights,  I resort to the tele. It eventually works - in tandem with a trusted Melatonin pill, of course.

But there was show I caught while away in California  that left me more sleepless than Seattle.

Bravo's reality TV show is called ‘Married To Medicine’. So much for the bone-dry documentary I was expecting...the content is pure Shebug.

Its cast live to whip up their fair share of formidable drama. The unlikely stars consist of two OB GYNs, a dentist, plus the others whose husbands are either ER physicians, a psychiatrist or an orthopaedic surgeon. 

In terms of looks, think Beyoncé, Rihanna, Kelly Rowland and Nicki Minaj replicates- minus the voice. Only one cool, calm and collected professional, Dr Jackie,  pulls off brainy chic beautifully and to a tee. 

The setting is Atlanta, Georgia, land of the sweet talking but remarkably crafty Southern Belle - except these peaches come unabashedly equipped with talons, stingers and a whole lot of lip. Talk of their distinguished profession is as incidental as the men on the show. Find it on Youtube and prepare to be sucked into the fierce high school ‘mean girl’ competitiveness and one-upmanship bold enough to rival any wolf on Wall Street.

The bling is explosive, their homes, inspirational.  Their lifestyles oscillate between decadence and frivolity. It’s all about the money, money money…kerchin!

And therein lies the rub…Those who defend the series say it offers young women a glimpse of what studying hard, getting an good education/good job can offer Jane Average. It screams study hard, remain focused, put in the years and invest in your future, and you, too, can have it all, down to the uprooted-from-Silicon Valley-cleavage to the Barbie Doll tresses and expensive little-left-to-the-imagination- dresses. Just how the multi-layer make-up does not melt off their surgically enhanced faces under the set lights or crack during a cat fight is beyond me. (Please send me the name of their make-up artist!)

All the power is in the women’s hands, whether they are operating on a patient or secretly stitching up one another. If the famous Dynasty cat fight between Crystal and Alexis traumatised you last century, those you’ll witness on Married To Medicine will have you reaching for Prozac…or for the record button on your remote.

New Voice, New Hair & a California Tan

Just where have I been is the million dollar question. Did I go into hiding or was I merely detoxing in the Alps?  Had I been recruited as a spy with orders to work behind enemy lines? Was I forced into an arranged marriage or was I in the wild Wild West simply chasing after a new dream? Or might I have been handcuffed to my laptop in the land of flakes, fruits and nuts crafting of a very different manuscript from my Shebug Stories?

Part of the answer lies in California, where I camped out for two months. One thing is for sure-for sure: I rode one hell of a roller coaster, got badly rear ended, saw two seriously shackled San Quentin prisoners in the emergency room – on different days - and spotted my first road runner ever... Beep beep!

I zigzagged my way from high drama to opressive quiet, emerged a little worse for wear but made it back to London - via Dallas for 7 hours - in one piece and did not get charged for excess luggage. Now I call that a triumph in survival skills!

Yes, I will be back writing. It’ll be the same old me but with a new voice. Deeper. Huskier. And very real.

I set off for the good old US of A with looooong hair and a dormant look only to return with a sassy hairdo,  eyes wide open and, OMG… a tan.

I’ve ditched the pale pink shimmer lip balm and do not leave the house without my red lipstick. It speaks volumes. Why? Because once you ditch the what-will-people-think/say/tell-restrained-for-the-sake-of others’ voice for the fullness of YOU, the right shade of Read-My-Lips Red is the only shade you’ll ever need!