A Crying Shame

I returned from work tonight to an empty house. After jumping on the trampoline for the first time in months (wasn't it a beautiful day?), I popped some corn and settled down to flip channels, settling on "Extreme Makeover: Home Edition." I hadn't seen that show in awhile, but as usual, it was very much a tug-at-your-heartstrings episode (in a cheesy, over-the-top way that makes me groan, but keep watching). Single mom with three kids. House burned down. Tried to re-build, but ran out of money. Sixteen-year-old gets killed in car accident. He happens to be an organ donor. Girl saved by heart transplant. You get the idea.

My family came home about fifteen minutes after the show had ended. "Your eyes look a little red and watery," my mom casually observed. I smiled sheepishly. No, I couldn't blame the watery eyes on allergies or a cold. I had to admit it: Extreme Makeover made me cry tonight. I was a tad disgusted by the idea that a reality show had played my emotions. After all, I don't consider myself the super-sensitive, cries-at-the-drop-of-a-fly type. Who would have thought a show with "Makeover" in the title could be such a tear-jerker?