File Under: Things I Can't Unsee
So, there I was, at the grocery store, strolling past the magazine rack looking to see if they still had a copy of Debbie Bliss (they didn't), when I saw it, positioned casually between Minnesota Bride and Black Hair Sophisticate: Fifty Shades: American Women Who Love the Book and Live the Life.
Content-wise, it looks like a cross between In Touch, if In Touch wrote about fictional people, and BDSM for Dummies. I don't think any American women who are actually living the life of being spanked by fabulously wealthy men would need this; it strikes me as more of an aspirational thing -- not unlike my non-existent copy of Debbie Bliss. If I were the tolerant, judgement-free person I occasionally aspire to be, I'd recognize that there's about the same inherent level of ridiculousness in knitting pure-white merino wool sweaters for a one-year-old who will probably spit pre-digested garbanzo beans on them as there is in learning how to buy lingerie for oneself from a magazine inspired by EL-freakin'-James, but I'm not.
I am judge-y. Way judge-y. And I'm also mad they were out of Debbie Bliss.
Content-wise, it looks like a cross between In Touch, if In Touch wrote about fictional people, and BDSM for Dummies. I don't think any American women who are actually living the life of being spanked by fabulously wealthy men would need this; it strikes me as more of an aspirational thing -- not unlike my non-existent copy of Debbie Bliss. If I were the tolerant, judgement-free person I occasionally aspire to be, I'd recognize that there's about the same inherent level of ridiculousness in knitting pure-white merino wool sweaters for a one-year-old who will probably spit pre-digested garbanzo beans on them as there is in learning how to buy lingerie for oneself from a magazine inspired by EL-freakin'-James, but I'm not.
I am judge-y. Way judge-y. And I'm also mad they were out of Debbie Bliss.