I HAVE BEEN catching up on Desperate Housewives – a show I was not allowed watch collectively with the nation as a child as it was deemed “not suitable” by my parents.

It meant I found myself on the outside of many a primary school circle, as I could not vocalise my love for Gabby. I did not know who Gabby was.

Anyway, upon further research/binge watching, I’ve established that Susan was actually the head honcho of the housewives (and show). I mean, what’s not to love? An endearing children’s book illustrator who couldn’t make toast without burning it? I truly thought I’d found my soul sister in Ms. Mayer

On the other hand, Bree Weston (neé Mason, formely Van de Kamp and Orson) seemed like a world away from the person that I am.

(Well, obviously, given that I have yet to indulge in multiple marriages or childbirth).

Bree was pristine; too perfect, in all aspects of her life that were visible to the public eye. That was the purpose of her character, obviously. She was made out to be worst of the housewives (subject, obviously). But there was no way she could compare to unlucky-in-love, bumbling Susan.

“Yep, that’s me,” I thought to myself, recalling my failed Tinder conquests as I watched her fall over Mike Delfino. “There I am, in the form of a fictional character written by Mark Cherry.”

And yet, as I progress further with the series, Bree’s humanity suddenly became more obvious and compelling to me. I thought I was the only one capable of experiencing all-consuming guilt about trivial things – Bree could well trump me on that.

While Susan kind of revelled in not being perfect, Bree sweated over it and took immense pride in being good at what she does (whatever that might be). Bree was the messiest bitch, who lived for drama, without ever actually making a mess, because that just wouldn’t do.

Despite being a staunch Republican (admittedly not one of her traits worth celebrating) Bree was unafraid when it came to calling out casual misogyny and sexism. She was probably the one housewife who had the most crystallising moments of feminist clarity – ones which probably even surprised herself.

Listen, there’s nothing wrong with Susan. Susan was great in her own ways. She was full of love, family-orientated and ditzy enough that she’d make you laugh with her, not at.

However, on more than occasion, she allowed her emotions to overruled her. While Bree took a lot of the rap for being a busy body, Susan was actually just as bad, if not worse.

Bree was multi-faceted. Bree made me question myself. Bree made me question, well, Bree. And most DH fans would agree that Bree slipped into the role as main character with ease as the series drew to a close, and as Susan grew more unbearable.

So, on this fine day, I implore to you embrace your Bree-ness.

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