I have agreed to do some unofficial research for my boyfriend. Well, for his job, really. This includes reading a lot–anything from the New York Times to Cosmo magazine–which is fine with me, because I love to read. He’s even agreed to buy me a few subscriptions to pop culture magazines, so long as I pass along any and all information that could be helpful for his work.
I don’t remember the last time I had an actual subscription to a magazine. I seem to remember more than a few copies of Highlights laying around while growing up, but I’m not sure that my parents bought them. Maybe we took the copies that the dentist’s office thought was outdated or something–you know, the ones with snowy illustrations contrasting the spring that had sprung months ago outside your window.
But I’m excited about these subscriptions. And reading The New York Times is both grown up and interesting. A nice boon, since a lot of parts about being grown up is not so interesting. Paying bills, for instance, is not exactly thrilling. Though being able to pay your bills sure is!
All this to say, I am now in possession of a Cosmo magazine. In fact, it’s folded in my bag as I type this. I’m all ready to read about HOW TO GET FLAT ABS FAST!, and of course, Miley Cyrus’ new-ish bleached blonde half-shaved look.
I mean, aren’t we all?
But I’m gonna be honest here. I’m used to pulling out real live books from my bag and reading them on the subway. Works of art like A Tree In Brooklyn and Like Water For Chocolate. I never once thought about what people might think about me while reading these books, either.
But now that I’m about to unfurl Cosmo, I’m hesitant. And I wonder if people will judge me. Because the truth is, I’d rather be the kind of person who’s perceived as someone who cares about the turbulent emotional atmosphere for a poor girl growing up in early 20th century Brooklyn rather than someone who cares about what kind of hairstyle belongs to a total stranger.
Still, I pull out my Cosmo magazine and I read. Or at least I will once I finish writing this.
I’ve got some research to do for a guy I happen to care a great deal for, is the thing. And far be it from me to do a shoddy job of it.