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As part of my second-life reinvention, I have decided to come clean.

No more appearances to keep up (with the possible exception, of course, of a potential future employer). No more pretense of being too cool, too cynical, too mature to admit certain things.

So, here goes.

Tonight I almost missed Game 5 of the Bulls-Celtics playoff series.

No. I did miss almost all of Game 5 of the Bulls-Celtics playoff series. And I’m not apologizing. If they are going to schedule these games on American Idol/Biggest Loser night, these things are going to happen.

They could schedule my daughter’s eighth-grade graduation on American Idol/Biggest Loser night and there’s a good chance she and I would miss it. The graduation, I mean.

Both shows are getting down to the really good part and thus, we can’t bear to wait even a day – DVR capabilities or not – to watch. Personally, I’m afraid someone at Amanda’s school might let something slip, she’d come home and tell me, and I’d have to hurt the kid.

So each Tuesday, I yell at her to finish her homework as quickly as possible – does this make me a bad mother? – and we rifle through both shows. And we mean business. No small talk between the judges. No Paula comments whatsoever.  No Allison whatsoever. No speeches before the lifting of the silver food warmers.

I insist on slowing down for the Trainer Tips because I’m afraid Bob or Jillian might actually say something useful that I can use and I’ll miss it – something , I mean, other than chewing WRIGLEY’S EXTRA gum will help you lose 15 pounds in a week. I already got that message and got the gum and it’s not bad. But someone walks by with a Double Stuff Oreo and I spit out the gum. I mean, huh?

So Amanda and I have both shows – about seven hours in elapsed time – whittled down to less than two hours (although tonight, we allowed for extra time when they showed an x-ray of the inside of Ron's stomach, before and after. She's not going to get that kind of stuff in science class). Get in our way and my husband and son are well-aware they might get hurt.

They can’t talk either. Mostly because all my husband Rick can do is call the Biggest Loser contestants “crybabies.”

Be more specific. Amanda and I are able to shout at the TV, discuss strategy, dissect Allison’s dress choices – not good  -- and eat as many snacks as we can and not miss anything vital. It’s an art and again, stay out of our way.

And when we turn on a contestant, it isn’t pretty (see: Helen and Ron).

American Idol is considerably less exhausting and allows Amanda the ability to exercise full texting options and watch at the same time, which makes her happy. And particularly this season, I rarely yell at anyone.

In fact, the competition is so tight, it makes us tense. When Simon turned on Kris after the other judges raved tonight, I had to re-think going for the Double Stuffs. It made me that upset.

The swing of emotions alone are a killer. Tonight, Amanda finally came around on Adam. Generally, he annoys her. It was a real bonding moment for us. It was also about the time I discovered we had missed most of the Bulls-Celtics and switched over frantically to see the game nearing overtime.

And so we watched. Impatiently. Then we got back to the Biggest Loser and some real competition.