Honestly, this season of The Real Housewives of Dallas has gotten so good. There’s a particular scene in this episode that I would gladly have devoted an entire recap to — it’s an all-time instant franchise classic. In a few short paragraphs, it will be my privilege and honor to tell you about it.
Tensions are still high between Mark and Cary. “You know, it’s really bad when we only have sex once a day,” she jokes in a confessional, which [Jennifer-Lawrence-saying-“okay”-with-a-thumbs-up GIF]. When she tells her husband slash boss she might duck out of the office early to pick up Zuri from school and do some yoga, he scowls at her, accusing his wife of “fricking bailing on me again.” Can’t he understand that she just wants to do yoga with their sweet, small daughter while wearing matching mother-daughter leggings? Have you no heart? But Cary is unfazed. She explains that, when she was pregnant, Mark flipped out. “We had this horrible fight because he was scared he was going to lose me to my daughter,” she says. Mark is the doctor and the terrible husband from Waitress combined into one man.
Brandi drives LeeAnne to her boob job, to be performed by who other but her now-notorious “vagina doctor.” A triple board-certified vagina doctor, mind you. His name is Dr. True. While he seems perfectly nice, “Dr. True” is the kind of name I would expect a man who is not a doctor to give himself under the guise of poorly pretending to be a doctor, along with Dr. Medical or Dr. Definitely a Doctor. (Also, you guys, I just googled Dr. True and found this commercial featuring Ms. Locken herself, promoting a $3,995 breast-augmentation winter special. I love the internet and I would choose no other time in human history to be alive.)
After everyone takes a few moments to admire LeeAnne’s unusually high, up-pointing nipples — Brandi calls them “a statement piece on her body,” — Dr. True leaves the two women alone in the room for a few minutes. We’re outside the room, too, but with the camera fixed on the door handle, we can hear their conversation. Well, “conversation” isn’t quite the right word. If you’ll permit me, I would like to reprint LeeAnne’s monologue in full for posterity, so that future Real Housewives scholars will have a slightly easier time with their archival research (brackets mine):
“You really think I want to get naked like this around Cary? How much fun do you think she’s going to make of me then? [A whisper.] Why is it so fucking important to Cary to come for me all the time? Because I’m gonna do something. She’s gonna come for me one day and it isn’t going to be pretty. [An extremely scary whisper.] Her husband gets his dick sucked at the Round-Up. I know the boys who did it. I didn’t grow up with a silver spoon in my mouth. I grew up with a lot of things in my hands and they’re not knives. [What?] They’re just hands. [What?!] But they work quite well. [Ma’am.]”
Where to begin? This whole speech is so gloriously insane it gives me ASMR. “Her husband gets his dick sucked at the Round-Up” is my personal cellar door. (“There is always something going on here!” reads the tagline on the homepage of the Round-Up Saloon, a Dallas gay bar, which seems fitting.) And what were the “things” in LeeAnne’s hands? Did she attack someone with a dart or a water gun from a midway game? Or are we back on the sandpaper incident?
RHOD verily drily cuts between LeeAnne’s surgery (during which an IV stand gets knocked over and Dr. True praises his handiwork as “pretty symmetrical”) and a procedure conducted by the competent, if emotionally toxic, Mark-and-Cary plastic-surgery tag team. Once they’ve wrapped up, Cary works up the nerve to tell her husband that this will be her last surgery for the foreseeable future — she wants to stay home with Zuri while she’s still little. Mark takes this about as well as you’d expect. “I bet you come crawling back in six months,” he tells her, with great compassion and extreme chillness. “I mean, I can’t picture you being a stay-at-home mom. I think you’d blow your brains out.”
Meanwhile, it occurs to Brandi that she should perhaps tell someone that LeeAnne more or less described killing Cary with her hands and/or with unspecified things in her hands. Stephanie encourages her to tell Cary directly — but she’s out on a very Dallas double date with Mark, D’Andra, and Jeremy at a gun range. Brandi calls her up via FaceTime, the most polite medium by which to tell a friend that someone has threatened their life. Given this alarming news, Mark suggests she stay home from the girls’ planned group trip to Mexico. Given that Mark is so terrible that I myself would take an eight-day cruise on a trash barge to get away from him, Cary decides to stick to her travel plans. And so does a still-recovering LeeAnne, despite the fact that her new and improved nipples are sore as hell. Another fun detail about Dr. True: He told LeeAnne to buy a makeup compact from a drug store and tape it to her boobs to keep the swelling down? (More on this developing story next week, I hope.)
And so the gang is off to Mexico, consuming an air-marshal-worrying amount of alcohol on the flight and then what looks like individual bottles of bubbly awaiting them in the van to the resort. It isn’t long before everyone knows what LeeAnne said about Cary. The question is, when will LeeAnne find out that they know? (The second question is, what were the things in her hands?)