When I'm in the grocery store, I make a conscious effort to pick the longest line. The strategy is simple. Get in line, march up to the magazine rack, grab a People and read it while I wait. Don't judge: saves me thousands of dollars a year on cable. And yet I still never make it out of the store without at least one magazine in the cart.
Lose 40 lbs by Tuesday?
Wait--what day is it?
Sunday?
I'm your girl.
Last week, I was cruising the the rack and I noticed Cosmopolitan and Better Homes & Gardens side by side. The inner struggle began. Which is more important-finding out the 50 ways to seduce a man or finally decluttering my home (and my life!) for good? hmmmm.... I went with the Better Homes.
That night me and my Meredith Publication cuddled up together in bed. Isn't this nice? Look at that pound cake I could whip up next weekend.
But the Cosmo nagged at me. Don't you want to know the kinky sex secret 64% of women secretly want to try? Think you already know what he hates for your to wear to bed? What's wrong with you?? When did making the perfect pound cake take precedence over the Bedside Astrologer?
Somewhere I have a photograph of me and my Grandmother. I'm about 5 or 6 which would make her in her mid-seventies. We are lounging in her bed. Me in my pajamas with a Fresca on the night stand beside me, she in her satiny robe with a ..."Fresca"... on her night stand. She's smoking a cigarette with one of those Bette Davis filters and I'm reading a Cosmo, upside down. She's got a "you just wait" sly grin on her face and I've got a "what's a G-spot?" deer in headlights look on mine.
Clearly, my Grandmother, who lived to be 97, felt there was more to life than the perfect closet, 40lbs by Tuesday or even pound cake.
Last night, I bought a Cosmo.
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