Molly Allen considers the impact of TV on our expectations (no, just because you’re not living in a penthouse doesn’t mean that your life’s a failure)
I don’t watch a huge amount of current TV. I still enjoy the same crap that has been cancelled since the invention of digital television and a choice of more than five channels.
The only TV shows I watch that are still running are ABC’s amazing Scandal and like every man and his dog, HBO’s Game of Thrones. After watching two episodes of Scandal this summer, I had the revelation that “I should be a lawyer.”
I frantically called my mum: “Mum, I’ve found my future career. I’m going to be a lawyer!” She responded with a sigh and then said: “Darling, what has prompted this?” Oh the humiliation when I meekly squeaked: “Umm, characters from a TV show.” Do I know anything about law? Do I study law? No—but Scandal’s Olivia Pope is a lawyer and an impeccably well dressed, Prada-toting, unbelievably sassy lady.
It’s starting to get out of hand: I’m still attempting to emulate Rachel’s shiny polka straight hair from Friends whilst simultaneously yearning for Serena van der Woodsen’s tousled blonde mane. In spare moments I find myself mentally constructing my menu for my inevitable appearance on Come Dine With Me. My housemates and I aim by next year to have turned ourselves into the toned, tanned, glittering salsa queens from Strictly.
I’ll turn off my Netflix or TV and for about five seconds (OK, minutes) and feel really crap about myself. Then I remember: yes, I may not live in a penthouse in New York, and no, I’m not going to win £1000 after throwing the most perfect dinner party, but I am happy with my life as it is.
Anyway, I still have time to do all these things, well maybe apart from the lawyer idea—an extra two years of studying and exams? No thanks. I’m off to salsa my way through life.