I blame it all on the Golden Girls. The recent passing of Bea Arthur (RIP!) reminded me of my love for the program and evoked nostalgia for my lazy summers of sitcom reruns in junior high… one night, not too long ago, my roommate and I decided to pay our respects when we were flipping through the channels and settled on Hallmark and into a comfortable evening of the Girls. I just kept the train rolling on into my bedroom that night, since the channel was seemingly on a marathon… my suspicions were proven even further when I awoke the next morning to the melodious strains of “Thank you for bein’ a fri-iiiend…” Could it be?! Was this Bea reaching out to me from beyond the grave?! Was I truly blessed to slumber AND rise to the Golden Girls?!
I quickly learned that Hallmark was not on a memorial marathon, but instead just generally devotes about 83% of its content to Golden Girls. Well, I can’t argue with that programming decision. Before I knew it, my Golden Girls viewing was segueing into other Hallmark programming… the occasional Little House on the Prarie rerun here, a bit of 3rd season 7th Heaven there… do I want to go out to happy hour? I don’t know, there’s a really interesting made-for-tv movie starring Jodie Sweetin as a Christian with cancer at 6:00 tonight. Like any addiction I didn’t realize I was entrenched until I was too late. Even though my television was permanently anchored on channel 19, I still refused to acknowledge that Hallmark was my new default channel. I was completely in denial.
My next stop in my downward spiral was rationalization. What was so wrong about Hallmark? Its content is family friendly. Its reruns are comfortingly familiar. It has actual shows in the morning, versus the infomercials of most other cable channels. While Food Network, E!, and Travel Channel don’t start real programming until 9:00 or 9:30, Hallmark starts playing Golden Girls at 8:00! I guess this is part of the marketing to the elderly deal… they call it the Early Bird Special for a reason. Since I am a religiously early riser, this was perfect for me. The power of the addict’s mind to trick itself is shocking; why not just smoke a liiiiiittle of this rock? It feels so good…
There were other benefits, or what I believed to be benefits at the time. Hallmark features gentler commercials. Gone were the inferior complex-feeding TrimSpa, Nutrisystem, and Girls Gone Wild commercials of E! and the music channels. There was no pressure or competition to be as attractive as Holly Madison, as slutty as Denise Richards, or as in shape as those girls on the Ab Roller infomercials. Hallmark’s advertising is concentrated on the geriatric set, so there are commercials for resort vacations, sugar-free candies, and heart monitors. Whereas I always felt a bit guilty when I was indulging in a spoonful of Ben & Jerry’s while watching “E!’s 100 Hottest Beach Bodies” complete with diet pill commercials, I felt absolutely zero qualms about devouring the entire carton during a viewing of Family Feud, peppered with Viagra and senior living community ads. So I’m not as fit as the F-list celebrities who’ve lost 56 pounds on Jenny Craig? Whatever, at least I don’t require a pacemaker!
As with any dire addiction, before any hope of recovery, one has to hit rock bottom. Not long ago, I finally reached that point. I was lounging in bed at 9:00am on a Monday morning, indulging in a chocolate bar. I was feeling pretty good about this situation, as I was simultaneously watching Blanche Devereaux dig into an entire cheesecake at midnight after a failed date… at least I was doing better than her, being about 45 years younger, 45 pounds thinner, and didn’t even have to get stood up by a guy to enjoy my unhealthy snack. You still look great in those paisley-printed flowy beach pants, Blanche! You go, girl! (Hallmarkchannel.com’s online “Which Golden Girl Are YOU?” quiz informed me that I am fated to be Blanche, so ever since then I have felt a very close bond with Rue McClanahan.) Suddenly, I had a strange sense of déjà vu. I narrowed my eyes and regarded my television screen with intensity. Why… what… oh my God. I had successfully viewed all Golden Girls episodes currently in syndication on the Hallmark Channel. I had the distinct and unmistakable memory of dozing in the exact same place, watching the exact same episode, only a few short weeks ago.
What was I doing?! Because a fictional elderly lady was eating cheesecake and I was watching commercials for insulin monitors, it was acceptable for me to rub my youth and health in the Hallmark Channel’s face and eat 500 calories of candy for breakfast?! Because I was used to ads promoting the scary senior retirement center in Lake City, it was fine for my condo to fall to shambles around me, as I was too busy watching 7th Heaven to do the dishes?! Who was I turning into?! A Florida retiree?! I had decades before this behavior would be appropriate! If I kept lazing around taking my health for granted, I wouldn’t live to see my golden years in the first place.
Time for some rehabilitation.
Last night I re-defaulted, hardcore. I skipped right over the methadone that is Travel and Food, and went straight for the cold turkey approach: E!. Talk about getting “scared straight.” I fell asleep to the Kardashians putting on a fashion show, and awoke to a “6 Weeks to Slim” infomercial. Good. Look at those ladies. Now, Emily, you realize how fat your midsection REALLY is. I got ready for work while watching a Lindsay Lohan documentary I’ve already viewed about… six or seven times in my life. See, even though Lindsay has a trashy family, a probable drug addiction, and an on-again, off-again relationship with a Ronson, she still manages to be rich, famous, and questionably attractive. I need this negative societal reinforcement so I can reprioritize. If I’m going to form parasocial relationships to celebrities and judge my self-worth by evaluating how closely my thighs resemble those of an infomercial testimonial, I BETTER be focusing on 20something socialites and Hydroxycut, and people who rely on hotel Jacuzzis for drunken hookups, not deceased elderly sitcom women and HoverRounds and grandparents in retirement homes who rely on personal Jacuzzis for back therapy.
My only fear is a relapse.
