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Aviva Reflects on 'Heathers'

Aviva wonders who "The Real Heather of New York City" is and if Carole might have a good side.

We make judgments on people based mostly on what we experience directly, though we can also be influenced by what we hear (gossip), read (gossip), or see on reality TV shows (God help us). But do we know them really? We don't know if the smug bastard who gloats about beating us at Words With Friends also beats his wife or is a pillar of his community. We don't know if the wily cashier who constantly shortchanges us at the diner is a career criminal or a church deacon. And we don't know if the taxi driver who takes us the wrong way then pretends he doesn't understand English is a con man or . . . nevermind. Bad example. He is a con man.

I was thinking of this as I watched the last two episodes. I've been fighting with Heather. She's angry with me because she thinks I've been trying to undermine Carole's career, and I've been mad at her because she’s been acting like Carole's attack dog. I swipe at her for her fatuous hip-hop act; she swipes at me because I'm a snob and a mother f---er. She says she doesn't like me. Even when we make up, she doesn't invite me to her anniversary party with all the other Housewives. Bitch, right?

Not so fast, Aviva. In these episodes I’ve seen her in a loving relationship with her husband, surrounded by close friends (and Housewives), and being a great mother. I've seen her concerned about her son's health, and very emotional when she thought she might not be able to help him. Which one is the real Heather? Turns out it's an easy decision. The good mother/loving wife trumps the trash-talking assassin from the Legion of Carole. I'm glad I got to see that part of her – and I’m choosing to believe that's the "Real Heather of New York City." And she even dropped her signature street language for a Yiddish expression. Challah! I’m keeping Heather and her son Jax in my thoughts. And who knows, maybe Carole has a good side too. We just haven't seen it.


STFU: I make fun of Heather's potty mouth, but I shouldn't be one to cast the first stone. I drop F bombs the way she drops the names of rappers. I say STFU, FML, and AYFKM without employing the economy of abbreviations. That word -- and a few more -- have, alas, become a part of my vocabulary. Good example in this episode. When Kristen started to lecture me, I let slip a STFU. Big effing deal. Fortunately it was at a crafts store where the kids were making soap. I washed my mouth with that soap, and the next time I open my mouth to curse, only bubbles will come out.

You can purchase my book, Leggy Blonde, here.

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