The Real Housewives of Dallas
You can take the girl out of the midway, but you can’t take the midway out of the girl. Particularly not when the girl has the means to install an edible cotton-candy wall at her engagement party, and everyone in her lift is petrified to question whether that’s a good idea.
But don’t worry, LeeAnne’s event will be more “Cirque du Soleil and not Iowa State Fair,” clarifies D’Andra, matron-of-honor-to-be. Even LeeAnne’s mom, Margaret, is coming. It’ll be the first time they’ve seen each other in years. For all LeeAnne’s sturm und drang about their difficult relationship — and given the #theyrejusthands cyclone of fury that sprung forth from this woman’s loins — I’m a little surprised when LeeAnne’s mom proves to be a nice, normal-seeming lady from Florida who pets the dogs a warm hello. Apparently, her house looks like a “shrine” to LeeAnne, so she’s schlepped multiple boxes of her daughter’s belongings (including her Miss Arizona USA tiara) up to Dallas, so that LeeAnne’s house can look like a shrine to LeeAnne instead. LeeAnne wants to deepen their bond, so she invites her mom to go to therapy with her. Although she agrees, Margaret is so uncomfortable that she’s nearly twitching, as am I.
D’Andra has her own mommy issues to contend with. She breaks the bad news to Dee that L22, the main ingredient in their new skin-care product, won’t arrive in time for their scheduled launch. At least she takes responsibility for her mistakes, which her mom appreciates. Dee appreciates it so much, in fact, that she’s finally ready to hand her daughter the keys to the company, which she proves by literally handing over a single key. (What, exactly, does this one key open?) The timing is a little arbitrary — did somebody say “season finale”? — but I’m nonetheless happy for D’Andra. Business is also booming for Kameron, who’s celebrating the arrival of Sparkle Dog in its first retail store. I am less happy for her, if only because Sparkle Dog’s Amazon reviews are basically a burn book filled with harrowing tales of pink poops and projectile puke.
At LeeAnne’s therapist’s office (free life advice: If your therapist is totally cool with airing your sessions on national television, seek out a different therapist), Margaret explains that she’s “terrified” to speak openly in front of her daughter, because just about everything she says seems to upset her. You’re far from the only one, ma’am. LeeAnne brings up her childhood memories of begging her mother not to leave her at her grandparents’ house. Her mom explains that, as soon as she’d walk out the door, she’d weep in her car. She was a 19-year-old, unemployed single mom doing what she thought was right, she explains. Margaret is horrified to hear that LeeAnne felt unwanted, telling her how deeply she’s always loved her. The two women embrace. LeeAnne seems genuinely moved by her mother’s words. I’m sad for her that, for whatever reason, they weren’t able to have this conversation years earlier.
If that last scene had you wondering whether this episode was going to be a redemption tour for our favorite non–Sandra Bullock star of Miss Congeniality, think again. Stephanie and Cary sit down with Brandi for a LeeAnne-tervention lunch, at which they express their concerns that their ginger pal has fallen prey to Big L’s malicious, manipulative wiles. Brandi proves to be surprisingly receptive and contrite, citing multiple times how LeeAnne tried to poison her against Stephanie and Cary. And so House Redmond, House Deuber, and House Hollman have forged a new alliance.
Now that all of our is emotional baggage is unpacked, it’s party time. Everything is black, white, and gold, with Champagne-slash-cotton candy cocktails and gold flakes sprinkled liberally in all the drinks. The cotton candy wall is an honest-to-God marvel. Kameron actually approves, despite the décor’s egregious, borderline offensive lack of pink. Even Cary and Mark are there, out of respect for Rich, and so is “plastic surgeon” “Dr.” “True,” whom his favorite patient’s necrosis of the boobs couldn’t shake from the guest list. LeeAnne, who is rolling face on all of this pure, uncut attention, takes Brandi aside to gush about how their friendship has come, and then, in the next breath, to stage-whisper, “Don’t fuck me over or I will slit your little throat.” Soon enough, we’ll have an opportunity to see if LeeAnne is a woman of her word.
The next morning, when the whole group comes together for an engagement brunch at D’Andra’s, Peak LeeAnne comes out to play. She complains that Mark seemed “uncomfortable” at the party, rather than simply marveling that Cary and her husband showed up at all. And despite her two-years-in-and-counting campaign of anti-Mark agitprop, she’s still peeved at Cary for making one dumb joke about Rich having a small penis. Brandi suddenly announces that she is “call[ing] bullshit.” LeeAnne’s mouth drops open like a snake about to feast on an unreasonably large pig. She calls LeeAnne a liar and a shit-stirrer who takes advantage of her supposed friends and revels in turning them against each other. LeeAnne protests her innocence. “I swear on my grandmother’s bible, which I’m happy to drive to my home and get,” she says — and now so will I, anytime anyone ever should be foolish enough to doubt me.
“Fuck you and good luck with your wedding,” human Hallmark card Brandi tells her, before storming out of the house (and quickly thanking D’Andra for having her, mid-exit). Et tu, Brandi? LeeAnne, who doesn’t have the presence of mind to at least smash a glass on the floor in response, cries in Kameron’s arms. That’s no fun! A graphic informs us that she’s planning the wedding for next summer, and that Brandi is not invited. Well, there we have it — something of an anticlimactic ending to a great season. At least we’ll always have Sexual Chocolate.