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These women are not heroes, paragons of virtue, or even particularly relatable to those who do not have personal wig stylists, but to this viewer they are far more likable than their wax-museum-of-horrors counterparts in Beverly Hills, Orange County, New Jersey and New York. I do not want to go to fashion week shows of dubious merit with Jill Zarin or foreclosure-hunt with Tamra Barney or mix medications with Kim Richards or — god forbid — bikini shop with Teresa Giudice.
But share a slice of sorry-about-the-stripper poundcake with Kandi and Phaedra? Kickboxing class with Sheree and Lawrence? Yes, and yes. In fact, for this past Sunday’s Kim Zolciak baby delivery episode, I prepared a tequila sunrise and lit a menthol in anticipation of the arrival of Kroy Junior — a moment that, somehow, through the layers of Bare Minerals makeup and synthetic hair, was actually quite sweet.

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