Cast Blog: #RHONY

What Friends Do

Ramona on Her Divorce From Mario

Carole on Elitists and Bitches

Heather Says That's a Wrap

Sonja: Don't Take Yourself Too Seriously

The Countess: Sonja and I Are on the Outs

Aviva Says Bye for Now

Kristen on Surviving Her First Season

LuAnn: For Ramona Ignorance Is Bliss

Who Cares How Carole Wrote Her Book?

Carole on Stupid Things You've Heard on Bravo

Aviva's "Foul Ignorance"

Kristen: Ramona's Out of Touch with Reality

Sonja Is Very Private

Ramona on the Grueling Reunion

LuAnn: Sonja Is Off the Rails

Heather: Et tu Ramona Singer?

Aviva on Kristen's "Gatemouth" Look

Kristen: Sonja Could Be Successful

Sonja's Glad Aviva Threw Her Leg

Carole: Waiter, We're Done

Ramona: Aviva's Leg Scared All of Us

Heather Focuses on What Matters

LuAnn: Sonja Only Has Herself to Blame

What Else Does Aviva Have in That Bag?

Aviva: Leggy Blonde

God Gave me a Great Ass and His Approval

Sonja on Her Harry Situation with LuAnn

Ramona: Where Did the Time Go With Avery?

Heather Tips to Plan a Party for Carole

Aviva Rises Above the Nonsense

Love Kristen Tender

Sonja and Harry Aren't Good for Each Other

Ramona: Mario's Voice Is So Sexy

Aviva Defends Her Asthma

Heather's Sasha Fierce Moment

Nothing Is Too Romantic for Sonja

LuAnn: I Sing When I Feel Like Singing

Kristen: This Show Has Helped My Marriage

Carole: Oh Beautiful for Spacious Skies. . .

Ramona: Just Don't Ask Me to Go Every Year

What Friends Do

Aviva discusses Ramona's curiosity about her prosthetic and laments not defending Heather.

The ladies seem to be having a lot of fun in London. Aside from my reticence to fly on a moments notice, there was a lot going on with my family. I had four birthday parties, one child down with the flu, one vocabulary test and one geography test, baby classes, pick ups and dropoffs, bathtime, bedtime stories, homework help, etc. While I would have loved to have been there, the timing for London just wasn't right.

Shoe shopping was never much fun for me because I was extremely limited until I was 26 years old. (I was only able to wear clunky weird boots -- even in the summer.) At 26, I had further surgery which allowed for better fitting prosthetics and, for the first time in my life, I could wear heels, open-toe shoes, flip flops etc. To this day, it is a great treat for me to wear wedges and heels -- anytime, anyplace. People who don't know that I wear a prosthesis (although now those people are far and few between) often ask, "Why do you wear heels so frequently?" Ahhh, if they only knew. . .Some of you may have noticed and wondered why I was bathing the children in wedges! Now you know that any heels are always a treat for myself.

Shoe shopping with Ramona was quite the experience. I don't want anyone to feel uncomfortable about my leg, and I welcome all questions. Yet who knew it would be so difficult for a woman in her fifties to understand the concept of an amputated leg? I learned that day that Ramona had never heard of the word "prosthesis" before. To question whether or not I can wear a bathing suit is bizarre. Does Ramona think I should be ashamed to wear a bathing suit? While Ramona may have been insensitive with her line of questioning fit for a child, I am going to assume she was trying to be funny and cute.

Maybe Ramona was afraid I would remove my prosthesis, and fearful of the whole process of shoe shopping with an amputee. I tried to make it out to be no big deal and set her at ease. That's what friends do right? (Please refer to this question in future episodes.) And if I wasn't able to set Ramona at ease, maybe someone out there can feel a little bit better about whatever issue they are anxious about exposing. In my case this has been taken to a whole new level as there is actually a parody account on twitter with the "AvivasLeg" handle. To be honest, whenever I see it, I am not sure whether I should laugh or cry. As I have throughout my life, and now more than ever on this #RHONY journey, I have chosen to laugh. Life is just too short.

At dinner, Ramona brings me back to junior high. She is intimidated by Heather and it shows in the form of mockery. It was at that point that my interview quote, "I felt like I was with a 6 year old," should have been placed. I felt uncomfortable, especially with the cameras looming. As Ramona got really mean, I sat there, frozen. I should have defended Heather, and I am sorry to Heather that I did not. Luckily, Reid poked Ramona a bit by asking her if she has these problems with other women! (I could not believe he said that!) Mario's reply was priceless, "No, she doesn't RIGHT NOW. . ."

The good news is that just as in junior high, we move on, move up and get past the nonsense. In this case, "the show must go on!" Thank you all for watching and reading and I hope you enjoy it all. I appreciate your feedback and for further interaction follow me on Twitter, Facebook, and on my website.

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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