Headley’s guilty pleasure

So it’s time to get to know me a little. A little about me and my guilty pleasure. And here it goes. It’s a sport that most wouldn’t actually classify as a sport. It’s Dancing with the Stars. Here we go again, season 14 of a show that just has a bunch of washed up stars getting jiggy wit’ it.

And why do I watch? I really don’t know. I think I love the idea of seeing these “stars” and I use the term loosely, go out and absolutely make a fool of themselves. There’s an element of stars that you think will be these amazing dancers and they fall flat on their face.

Or these stars that you think will dance as good as William Hung sings, and they cut a rug like Michael Jackson in his heyday.

What I can’t handle about this show is not the whiny stars who “Just can’t believe I’m crying.” Or the stars who “Just can’t believe the judges like me.” What gets me is the fact that the show is fixed.

I’ve never gotten over this since season nine when they screwed over Mya Harrison, (the best dancer) to give Donnie Osmond (the best poser) the highest scores, and thus giving him the coveted Mirrorball trophy.

Yes that’s right, they give away a Mirrorball trophy on Dancing with the Stars. Is it cheesy? Yes, but the point is the judges usually pick their favourite dancer (dancing ability aside) to appease their own sad need to feel accepted by the popular vote. (Which is whomever they deem that to be).

So what do I get out of it? I get to see all forms of the sport of dancing in one show. Yes, I said sport of dancing because competitive dancing is a sport. There’s possibility of injury and a lot of physical fitness.

When the glitter settles, and the sequins fall, the show is a sport competition that delivers star power.

You may now begin to laugh at my guilty pleasure. (I mean, my wife’s guilty pleasure.)