I’ve noticed a certain women’s magazine believes there’s only one season.
If you flip through a Cosmo in September, it will show you how to keep your beachy waves long after the beach is closed. December’s issue provides tips on faking a fun, sexy bronze glow through winter and taking your man on fun, sexy summer-themed dates to get through the frightening dark months ahead. In February, while you wrestle the pages through your mittens, the fashion section fills with summer’s fun, sexy new looks. When June finally arrives, it’s impossible to find a coherent headline on the cover between giant yellow and orange words: FUN SEXY SUMMER! SUN AND SEX AND SEA SHELLS! MELANOMA AND ALSO SEX!
Someone should probably let them know about the existence of autumn, winter, and spring. I’d do it, but they think I died in a horrible waxing accident and I’m loathe to correct them.
1) When I had my Cosmo-induced mental breakdown back in September, there was one section I didn’t pay much attention to. If you’ve read Cosmo, you know the one I’m talking about because you’ve skipped over it. There’s an article towards the back of every issue featuring true crime or horrible drama– terrible things happening to pretty blondes with perfectly straight hair and teeth. The picture is always a blurry female shape walking alone, ripe for the abducting and torturing, and the article has some sensationalist headline (So Young… So Naive… SO COMPLETELY MURDERED) that makes you want to stop and read but also keep going and never, ever find out what happened to the blonde girls and their nice teeth.
If you had Googled me before I started this blog, the only results would have been from Boy’s Life‘s archives and a site called “Ask Dr. Math”. Boy’s Life published a joke I sent in when I was 10 (they paid me two dollars for it!), and Dr. Math helped me win the 9th grade science fair by suggesting a way to measure the randomness of a shuffled deck of cards (they gave me a reference book for it!). Nerdy websites and jokes. That’s pretty much me in a nutshell.
I want it to be clear that no one rocks the X chromosomes like I do, but there are some stereotypically female things that leave me confused. I obsess about my hair and squeal over shoes as much as the next cliche, but things like “applying lipliner” and “understanding emotions” are sort of beyond me. Because I missed some important female lesson at some point, I get all my relationship advice from Google.
Tuesday, I was asking Google how to flirt and every result was from Cosmopolitan, the magazine for fun, fearless females. If you’ve walked past a magazine rack in a grocery store and you have eyeballs, you know that Cosmo’s advice can be crazy. Not fun, you-never-know-what-your-girlfriend-will-do-next crazy. The your-girlfriend-is-going-to-stab-you-in-the-face-in-your-sleep kind of crazy. Nevertheless, there are girls out there who live and breathe Cosmo. If sex sells, a thousand different euphemisms for it plastered on a pink cover must sell a thousand times as well.