I was at the gym, doing my thing, minding my own business when it came again, my deep anger at yet another injustice. Not from the weights. Not from the sweat. From the wall-mounted television, casually streaming yet another episode of a home improvement show where a family already living in a house 90% of the population couldn’t afford got gifted an absurdly luxurious backyard makeover — for free.
We’re talking about multi-level deck, a liver-shaped pool, gondola, for god’s sake. Not installed by a contractor they scraped together savings for but by a professional TV crew. Sponsored. Subcontracted. It’s like a commercial. They didn’t win a contest. They were picked, no doubt, because they look good on camera.
The husband is square-jawed, successful… just a good-looking, successful guy with a trophy wife. The wife? Hot. That’s her whole brand. At one point, she wore a shirt that said, “I’m a hot mess.”
And that’s when my ire was raised.
Because that shirt isn’t self-aware, it’s not cute. It’s not vulnerable, it’s strategic. It’s humble-bragging in soft cotton. What she’s saying is, “Don’t worry — I know I’m hotter than you, but right now, I’m a little messy, and that makes us equals.”
But we’re not equals.
She’s getting a resort built in her backyard on national television because of this home improvement show. You’re working overtime to keep your roof from leaking and your rent from going up. She’s sipping rosé while a designer talks about accent lighting. You’re trying to figure out if you can afford a new washer without dipping into your car fund.
These shows aren’t inspirational. They’re weaponized wealth porn dressed up as lifestyle content.
They pretend to be about “home” — comfort, family, roots — but they’re not about wholesome values. They’re about personal value.
How much more valuable are these people compared to the masses who are watching? That’s the message behind every camera angle and slow-motion reveal:
You don’t get help, you certainly don’t get transformation. You don’t get a dream backyard because you’re not valuable enough and therefore, don’t deserve it. Curb appeal. ROI. You rarely see anyone without money, connections, or a camera-ready face. You don’t see single moms in rentals, people living with roommates in a tiny apartment, trying to make it more livable. There is precious little that reflects real life.
Instead, you see affluent families upgrading from “already amazing” to “now everyone’s jealous.”
Luxury as the New Baseline
Everything is framed as essential:
- Open concept? Must have.
- Walk-in pantry? Obviously.
- Outdoor kitchen with a pizza oven? Non-negotiable.
The baseline keeps shifting. And if you’re not keeping up, you’re falling behind — or at least that’s the message. You start to question your own home. Your worth.
What’s wrong with your space? Why haven’t you upgraded your cabinets?
Is your life just… less?
It’s not just toxic. It’s calculated.
Who Gets the Help?
It’s never people who need it. It’s the already-successful, the already-attractive, the already-settled. They’re cast not because they’re struggling — but because they’re marketable.
Let’s not pretend this is about generosity. This is branding. These shows are about presenting a fantasy that networks can sell. It’s a fantasy where people who “deserve” it get more, and those who don’t — the rest of us — get to watch and clap politely.
And don’t get me started on the fake “struggles.” The tense music is because the pergola might not match the fire pit. The dramatic voiceover when the wood stain is slightly off. Real people are forced to choose between heating and groceries. Meanwhile, Chad and Jess might have to settle for quartz instead of granite.
Boo. Fucking. Hoo.
What These Shows Don’t Show
- DIY that doesn’t involve a $40,000 budget and a crew of specialists
- Actual affordable fixes for normal people
- Renters
- Immigrant families in cramped apartments
- Anyone whose house is less than 10x their income
- Anyone who doesn’t look good in soft lighting
They never show how many permits get denied. How many people go into debt trying to replicate what they saw on screen? How many relationships are strained or destroyed by chasing a fantasy someone else got for free?
So What’s Left?
I’m not saying every show needs to be gritty or depressing. But let’s stop pretending this is about “home.” These shows are about taste-shaping, wealth signalling, and audience manipulation.
And we keep watching. We keep aspiring.
But maybe it’s time we stopped watching homes and started fighting for housing.
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