Cast Blog: #RHONY

Own Game, Own Lane

Bethenny talks naked photoshoots, new relationships, and her rift with Jill.


I don't really get offended very easily. All the women on the show have very thick skin, and deep down, most of us aren't very close friends. We embarked on an extraordinary journey together, and discord is part of that journey. My best friends are those that I've had for decades. I've grown to respect many of the Housewives and grown apart from others. Don't hate the player. Hate the game.

The PETA shoot was really fun, liberating and "one of a kind." I had no idea it would end up as a Times Square Billboard. I'm not overly concerned with my appearance, so I just wanted the billboard to raise awareness and look good enough. It did exceed my expectations.

Jason and I met at a nightclub in the meatpacking district. He was hot and I was drunk. Perfect combo. I had no expectations. Yet he called versus texting me the next day for a date. I never thought it would amount to anything but he handled himself impeccably every step of the way. He is a true gentleman and the most loving, kind, gentle man I've ever met. I can't believe we met at 2AM loaded on Skinnygirl margaritas. His heart is made of candy.

Jason finds the show a bit tragic and a bit embarrassing but he does it for me. He knows how good the show has been for me, and he is very supportive.

Jill likes to battle. She can't help it. It's her nature. I make snarky comments and can't resist a one-liner, and she can't resist a battle. Everyone has his or her stuff. I hope Jill gets everything she wants out of this season. I play my own game and stay in my own lane. I have no time to get caught up in minutia. I was pregnant the entire season, so it put everything in perspective. In addition, I was launching Skinnygirl margarita, The Skinnygirl Dish,  preparing for a spin-off and maintaining a relationship. Petty nonsense was low on the totem pole. I am not at battle. I don't need or look for allies nor do I rally troops to build me up. I can deal with anyone, anywhere, anytime on my own.

I asked LuAnn for a drink to try to mend our superficial relationship. I wanted to tell her to drop the countess nonsense because it is inconsequential. It was lost on her. The meeting in and of itself was more superficial and made me realize we simply don't see eye to eye. It didn't necessarily create more conflict; it just made me realize that I don't want these kinds of relationships in my life. Again, pregnancy made me tolerate nonsense a bit less.

Carole on Elitists and Bitches

Carole says what she really thinks of Aviva and all of her talk about her book and things being "ghetto."

Dear Fans,

Let me start with something I stole it from Twitter this week. "The most dangerous liars are those who think they are telling the truth."

I'll say it again. The blonde at the end of the right couch, the one who's prone to lobbing limbs and insults, is an Insulting. Bitch. Some of you didn't believe me. Maybe some of you still don't. But after watching the reunion shows I imagine it's harder and harder to cheer for the anti-hero. Just when you think she can't get any faker she does.

The story according to Aviva makes me laugh: We were arguing, she insulted me, I called her a psychopath and that prompted her to affectionately compliment me on my age. Sure. Her disdain for the intelligence of the audience is palpable. It was too stupid for me to even reply. But as I was watching the reunion, and particularly Aviva and the way she treats people, I was reminded of something my Grandma Millie used to say. (I love everything Grandma Millie used to say.) "At 25, you have the face you're born with. At 45 you have the face you deserve."

I'd rather be 50 and me than be 45 and Aviva, any day of the week. She aged worse this season than a president in his first term. Holy short dress, I don't mind at all how I look. Overbite and all. I'll take it.

When I first met Aviva she was lovely. Really lovely. I meant what I said on the couch, I wish we had seen more of that. Her easy laugh and funny neurotic ways. Instead all we saw was a mean and angry woman. All because I asked her if she hired a writer -- a writer she did hire. It makes no sense. Three years ago she told me she'd read my memoir, What Remains. This was a book published in 2006 about my childhood, my family, my career and marriage, and then the death of my husband, Anthony Radziwill. A man I loved more than anyone I had loved before or have loved since. She gushed over my book. She quoted from it. We hugged. She seemed so sincere. Flash forward and she now believes it was written by a ghostwriter. She even knew his name, and it wasn't Truman Capote. It was Bill Whitworth, she told me. She repeated this over and over to anyone who would listen. And it doesn't matter how many times she repeats it -- it will never make it true.

When they stopped listening she started saying in the press and on social media that not only was my book written by someone else but that it was not my place to have written a book about my life, and my marriage. And, as if I didn't remember, she reminded me that I'd written about people who had died. Um, yeah. I know. It was my husband and my family and my closest friend who died. Just. . .wow. But I wasn't important enough to tell my story because my husband's family was famous, or historic or whatever she said. Because they had money and privilege and yachts. Really. Who do I think I am?

I’ll tell you. I’m a girl from upstate New York who grew up in a loving, if sometimes kooky, Italian working class family. I worked for everything I earned, just like my parents did and their parents before them. I have a proud family history of hard work and small but precious rewards that followed. My family won't be in any history books. I didn't grow up privileged. We didn't spend summers in Europe or Christmas in Palm Beach. A day spent at the town pool or playing in the woods behind our house was great. Much like Heather, I was taught strong values and decent manners. I learned to live with integrity and honesty. I'm proud of my upbringing and the woman I became, as was my husband. As is his family to this very day. I've known people who lived in what Aviva would consider the "ghetto" who have more class and decency than she shows.

All this talk about class and ghetto -- you'd think we were living in communist Russia. Here is the thing. This is America. In our country it doesn't matter a lick where you are from, it only matters where you're going. So don’t let anyone tell you that you aren't good enough because you didn’t grow up on Park Avenue or in a family that had some history, or because you enjoy saying mother-f---er now and then. I’ve met people from all walks of life. I spent time in refugee camps in Southeast Asia, and in the projects of Chicago. I've been to State dinners with Presidents. I met the Queen of England on a beach in Anguilla. No one is any more valuable or important than you are. No one is more important than your family and your friends.

Let the elitists go slow into the night.

In spite of the BookGate dust up I had a great time this season. I made wonderful new friends in LuAnn and Kristen and my friendship with Heather is more special and important to me than I could have ever imagined just three years ago. Friends have each other's backs. I love her, madly. And while we didn't always act appropriately, we had a lot of laughs. I hope you did too.

Thank you all for your supportive and funny and brilliant tweets. And while we didn't all agree on everything all of the time I enjoyed your participation in the show. Even the mean tweets about my skinny neck and my overbite were amusing. Like I said, I've stolen some tweets already. You may see others as dialogue in my next book, and yes, you can all say you were my ghostwriters.

As always,

With love, Writer Girl xoxo

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