There I was. In the place where my addiction would be fed. I hastily glanced around, do I see anyone I know? I try not to make eye contact with anyone lest they look into my soul thru my eyes and see my dirty little secret. Quickly I make my way to my drugs…the sight of them causes me to catch my breath. So many beautiful choices, all calling out to me…”Pick me, pick me…I will transport you to another world.” I am weak in the knees at the thought of what delights await me. My breath quickens, my heart begins to pound, my hands to shake. Joy fills my heart. If only I could stop time and sample each and every one. How do I choose? If only I had unlimited resources to purchase every one that I want. I take my time, first scanning the labels, touching each one, noticing the weight of them. All sense of time and space leaves me…I am with those that I desire…those that I crave…those that I need.
Will I choose the one that promises me a new body or the one that will make all my aches and pains go away. What about the ones that speak to the artist in me…I could be caught up for hours in their colorful worlds. This one will help me focus and be more productive….or maybe I should choose the one that will help me feel good about myself just the way I am. I check my wallet to see if by some luck of fate, extra money has made its way into there. But, alas, the two lonely twenty dollar bills are staring back at me. This means that, at best, I can only purchase a couple of my darlings. Oh, the agony of the choice. Once again I ask myself, “Oh why wasn’t I born rich instead of beautiful”? Money can buy beauty but my beauty cannot give me what I want today.
I glance at my watch, oh no! Time has gotten away from me and I must be off so the decision must be made. Do I go with my tried and true friends or will I take a chance on something new? Hurry, hurry…time is my enemy. What to do? What to do?
I reach for the old and familiar, hoping that the rush that they give me will be enough, that I won’t be disappointed. I spy another one as I am turning to leave. I grab it and give it a quick look….should I take this one, too? If I do, I will be left without a dollar in my wallet and payday is 10 days away. Sadly, I put it back. Not this time.
I grasp my treasures and head to the door hoping I don’t run into anyone I know, as I have no time to chat….my desire to get my fix is great. I smile inwardly thinking of the hours I will spend in blissful slothfullness….my mind dull with pleasure.
There is the door. Just a few more moments and I will be set free….
What is that horrid screeching???? Why is everyone staring at me? Have I been found out? Will my shameful little secret be known to all?? I can feel my face turning scarlet.
Oh crap! In my haze of delirium, I had forgotten to pay for my purchases and had walked thru the anti-theft device. Thankfully the person behind the counter also had the same addiction and understood my lack of awareness. As I handed her my membership card and money, we chatted about the deliciousness of our addictions. We were kindred spirits. Sisters bound together by the lure of shiny pages and colorful images. How she could stand working in a place where so many choices called to her each day, I do not know.
Yes, dear reader, you guessed it. I am addicted to magazines. Not just your run-of-the-mill “Good Housekeeping” or “Redbooks”, oh no. I am into the hard core, $15 a piece, good stuff. Your “Where Women Create” and “Studios” and “Artful Blogging” to name a few. Gorgeous magazines, full bodied, bold colors, thick pages. Even the ads are beautiful. Magazines to be savored, not whipped through. With steaming hot cups of Mocha coffee topped with real whipped cream and pieces of chocolate candy on top. Reading these magnificent tomes are an event, like a good meal, devoured slowly, tasting every page. If you love them as much as I do, only then will you understand my addiction.
I’m sorry Mrs. Reagan, I can’t “JUST SAY NO”!