July 2, 2012

Reading More

All my life, I've had a habit of going over to the homes of my female relatives and reading their magazines.  We went over to my grandma's house almost daily when I was under 10, and at least weekly for most of the years after.

I loved to read my grandma's copies of Good Housekeeping, Ladies Home Journal, and Redbook fanned out neatly on her coffee table.  I liked GH for the Emily Post and Heloise columns (I studied those helpful hints harder at age 9 than I ever do now), but especially because almost every month, there was some lurid true story involving children and medical emergencies and accidents.   I can still vividly recall reading about a boy who swallowed some toxic cleaning product, and the subsequent horrific damage to his esophagus and gut. I read it over, sloooowly.   What do you call that? Medical Crisis Porn?

At my aunts' homes, I read Glamour and Mademoiselle and the Spiegel catalog, and wondered about the point of Los Angeles magazine. (Even then, it was chock full of high-end doctor & lawyer ads.)  

Now that I'm all grown up, I still practice this habit. One aunt, now in her seventh decade, still reads Glamour, and my mom always has a reliable stack of gossip/celebrity mags stashed in a basket.  She also subscribes to More.  And I used to tease her and her "old-lady magazine," until I actually started reading it on her couch, and found it totally relevant and interesting.  One would successfully argue that her "old-lady magazine" is actually geared specifically to my own demographic (being, ahem, launched into my fourth decade) than to hers.

In years past, my mom has gifted me with subscriptions to both Traditional Home and Rachel Ray.  But Trad Home was just too...traditional for my taste, and I can't use 80% of the Rachel Ray recipes, because she loves to combine meat with fruit, which my husband abhors. 

Last Sunday, when I returned from my girls' trip to Palm Springs, my first gifted copy of More magazine was waiting on my kitchen island. 
Huh.  And I started poking fun at myself, and my younger sister and daughter joined in: your old-lady magazine! Ha Ha Ha!  But in light of recently being witness to some lithe and beauteous early 20-somethings partying out in Palm Springs, having a subscription to More feels...just about right.

The content was all interesting and/or entertaining and/or relevant. Yes, even the stuff about the haywire hormones.

I've never read one of her novels, but I always enjoy essays by Jacqueline Mitchard:
 (IMO, her friend was the one in the wrong. Touchy, touchy.)

And I liked the summery, preppy styles in this spread:

I mean, I'd totally wear just about anything up there. Especially those yellow shorts.  With that canvas tote. 

And I even got my old fix for Medical Emergency Porn with this story:
Confession: I could only "enjoy" the featured crisis because it was a shark attack. If it had been a health crisis story, I'd have gotten all clammy and anxious and hypochondriac like I do these days. 

And I don't know a whole lot about cover woman Kyra Sedgewick because I don't watch her show, but I do think her husband is a whole lot cuter now that he's an older guy than I ever did during his gangly Footloose days. 

Bottom line: I read it cover to cover. Not in one sitting, because that would be too hard on my hip bones. (Joke!) So from one old lady to another: thanks, Mom.  But, seriously, I won't need the AARP magazine for more than another decade, so don't be getting any wild ideas for Christmas.

No comments :

Post a Comment

Thanks for commenting! :)

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...
Blogger Template by Designer Blogs