So, I don’t know if you know this, but New York is really expensive. I know! I was surprised, too. The point is that my decision to live in Manhattan (in a small box like a veal, but a veal who lives in an awesome neighborhood) required me to make some serious sacrifices in terms of expenses. The first thing to go, I decided, would be cable.
I’ve been cable-free for awhile now, and the weird thing is that I don’t miss it at all. No, sorry, that’s not the weird thing: The weird thing is that I feel better about myself in general, because without cable, I don’t watch TV, and without TV, I’m not exposed to a continuous flow of android women who were grown in labs specifically for the purpose of making me and my curvy little person feel like crap.
Don’t get me wrong: I love TV. When I visit my folks, I stare at it blankly for hours. I’m never going to be one of those people who brags about not having a television. I don’t think it’s particularly boast-worthy one way or the other.
But the other day, I was getting ready to go out and I put on a shirt that was, oh, maybe a little tight, and when I looked in the mirror, instead of thinking, “God, I’m a big fat cow,” I was all, “Meh. Maybe another shirt.” And then I looked again and thought, “Ah, fuck it.” And went out as is.
Of course, the other option is that this has nothing to do with TV, and everything to do with me growing up a little.