I keep thinking about Mary's exploded breast. The photo of it she shares with Amanza and Chrishell in her backyard after surgery, Chrishell's casual mention of a recent CAT scan that revealed the need for her own implants to be replaced soon, my realization that insurance covers none of this, all served to remind me that the glossy performances the women of Selling Sunset deliver obscure the otherwise pretty grim reality of their daily lives.
Scenes like these, where Mary can't even lift her arm to hug Chrishell hello but is still in full glam, serve as a reminder that even when things go terribly wrong, these are people who will contort themselves painfully to maintain the ideal they want to project.
Chelsea even claims she still hasn't talked to her husband about this yet, something that only makes sense when you remember she's in the middle of filming a TV show, and only a few days seem to have passed since Bre told her about it on camera.
While it's great that enough feminism has reached this world, the whispered check-ins through painted smiles and that whole scene at Mary's that's just Chrishell letting them know how much they can't talk about imbue these episodes with a sense that we're off track in a way no one quite knows how to handle.
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