Confession. I really like O Magazine. This revelation is quite shocking to me, and I’m really not ready to admit what it says about my newest age-box. (30-35?? yikes!!) I don’t subscribe to it, and often only buy it at my 13th pass by the newstand that month – after I’ve already gone through Vogue, Elle, Lucky, Domino (sob!) Elle Decor, Cooking Light, and my various political magazines. That’s a lot of those damn mail-in tear cards. (i.e., I speak from experience here.)
Back beyond the Photoshopped glossies, there’s Oprah, third row back, staring at me calmly, knowingly. Like a mother who doesn’t sweat it that she didn’t make the list of her teenage daughter’s confidantes. She knows that those silly girls, the Jessicas and Jennifers and Brangelinas will lose their luster one day, and in the end, it’s your mom who’s your best friend. She knows you’ll be a reader one day.
And the thing is, I actually like to read it. I even like to read the table of content pages. I stopped reading the fashion magazines years ago. Words are nice. Words (especially Oprah words) give you a big hug. That silicone model propped up on 6-inch heels atop a sky-scraper just doesn’t offer the same sort of inspiration to me anymore. Yeah, that model kinda scares me. Call me old fashioned.
It was O Magazine that turned me off to law school. It was only a passing reading – a “What I Know For Sure” from Oprah about the power of decision. Once you make up your mind to decide, she said, you can move on with your life. It’s the hesitation and equivocation that keeps us from moving forward. I emerged from that toilet a changed woman. I had decided I would not be a lawyer for anyone else (parents). I would be an unemployed blogger FOR MYSELF. And I’m the happier for it.
Next time you’re at a news stand (or your aunt’s guest bathroom) I highly recommend picking up a copy of O Magazine. Turns out that moms still give the best advice of all.