It's more than a problem. It's an addiction.
Magazines. They're my crack. I can't get enough.
I'd like to sit here and tell you I only read Vogue, Vanity Fair and Time. Truthfully, I do read them. I don't discriminate. I'll read any glossy mag. Ranger Rick? I'm in.
The magazines that really get my hands shaking and my heart beating, however, are the celebrity gossip weeklies. I know, I know. It's embarrassing. I try to buy only the top tier of tabloids: People and Us Weekly. However, like any addict, sometimes I just need my fix. If I'm waiting in line at the grocery store and I see In Touch or, even worse, Star staring back at me, I start to sweat a little.
BRAD AND JEN'S SECRET RENDEZVOUS! I know it's not true and I don't even care. Grab it. JESSICA'S LONELY NIGHTS! Poor thing. Let me see. KENDRA'S BABY NURSERY! I don't give a sh*t, but... well, maybe for just a second.
So, yes, I have a problem and you know what they say. The first step is identifying it. I don't even want to admit that Thursday is my favorite day of the week because it's the day the new Us Weekly hits the shelves. (Except this week, this week it comes out today. Thank you, Thanksgiving! The cover this week? Jessica and Jennifer missing John! Score. Right after I finish this, I'm driving to Target and getting my greedy little hands on my own copy. And no, I am not joking.)
When I was little, my mother said that I couldn't read these magazines because only trashy people read them. (Sorry, Mama, but you know you said it.) That's like saying, "Whatever you do, do not go on top of the roof and break dance. It's the most fun you'll ever have, but you'll get a reputation." The next thing you know, you're reading Break Dancing for Dummies and plotting a way to get on that damned roof. Right? Right. My mother said the same thing about soap operas and let's just be honest here, I faked an illness to stay home and watch Tad and Dixie get married on All My Children in the sixth grade.
It's like she programmed me to like this crap.
Years ago, my good friend Emily came to my house for a slumber party and as she was getting into bed, she tripped on something and dramatically fell on her heinie. What did she fall on? My ginormous stack of trashy magazines. We still laugh about that one.
Every December, I tell myself that as a resolution I will decrease my celebrity gossip intake. By January 15th, I'll buy anything. Tiger Beat? Why not? Anything to stop the cravings... Maybe this year I really will cut back. It's highly unlikely, but anything is possible. And, hey, there are worse vices a gal could have. Until then, bring it. I gotta run to Target now. Something's calling my name.
*My bff would like me to add that even when I have a subscription to one of my favorite mags, if it doesn't arrive in a timely fashion in my mailbox, I'll go and buy one anyway. Yeah, it's that bad and, yeah, I'm a little ashamed.