Drop the magazines if you know what's good for ya

You’ve probably read the research saying that women have decreased self-confidence after spending time with a typical women’s magazine. I just experienced that with Seattle magazine, which reviews fancy local restaurants. I looked at all these fabulous places to eat and had a moment of sadness, because fine dining just doesn’t work out well for our family. I’m gluten-free, lactose-intolerant, and mildly allergic to pork. My husband is the classic picky eater who prefers a simple soup and sandwich or pizza to just about anything else, and who always manages to get sick if he goes to a restaurant and spends more than $50. On top of it all, I have a little kid, and you know what that means. All these things conspire to assure that I rarely, if ever, get to go to a “nice” restaurant.

Going to a fine dining establishment means I have to spend an hour online perusing menus to find some place that that actually has something my husband will eat. Basically, there has to be chicken breast, halibut, or pizza, prepped in a manner that will not bring out his inner paranoia about food safety, shellfish or raw animal flesh. Once I find the one or two places that will work for him, I look to see if there’s anything I can eat, beyond “Caeser salad, hold the croutons.” Once the restaurant is picked, the sitter has to be lined up. Usually by the time all this is figured out, the restaurant is already completely booked for the night.

So I felt a little sorry for myself, reading this Seattle magazine. But then I realized something truly awe inspiring: I am happy to be the mother of a small child. I love the fact that I know what foods give me trouble, so I can avoid them. I love the fact that my husband is a picky eater, because it gives me leverage when he wants to watch a movie I don’t want to see (“I’ll watch this movie that will scare me and make me cry and run to the bathroom multiple times, after you come with me to a sushi place and eat raw fish, mkay?”) I love my family and my life the way it is. I don’t need fancy restaurants!

Likewise, those women’s magazines? I won’t let them make me feel crappy about myself. I would rather have the body I have than spend lots of time and money trying to look like someone I’m not.

Even “O” magazine depresses me, with all its “here’s how you can be happy and find your true calling” types of articles. Whatever my true calling is, I’m already doing it, or I’m on my way there, whether I’m conscious of it or not. Telling me I could be happier, does not make me feel good because it implies there’s something wrong with the way I am now. And there’s not. So just stop already.

Now the only thing I need to make me happier is to stop looking at these magazines entirely, hmm? Back to the books.