The Glamorous Life

Those who only know me as somewhat decorous (*cough*) may be shocked by this post. But I feel the need to rant. I will reveal here that for a time I considered starting up a magazine entitled Squalor as an antidote to women's magazines like Glamour. I read these magazines regularly, and yet after I'm done I feel empty, as if I shall never have the right make-up, be fashionable, thin enough, or have slept with the proper number of men.

Squalor would contain articles on what it's really like to be a woman in this world -- instead of "Ten Ways to Please Him in Bed," the lead article might be entitled "Ten Ways to Make him Wear a Condom" or "Best Sex Positions for When Your Bladder is Full." (Keep in mind that freelance writers would be employed for some of these articles -- contrary to popular opinion, my knowledge does not extend in every direction.) Fashion articles would address the ridiculousness of gaucho pants, the color yellow, and plastic surgery while showcasing size-14 models in the comfiest of 'jammie pants. Instead of featuring the latest bridal wear or instructions on how to find "couple" time with your man, we'd show tips on hosting a "Yay -- I'm Divorced!" party (Hallmark take note -- this is an unexplored area for greeting cards) and how to send the right "kiss-off" email to that creepy guy you met on Match.com who won't stop wooing.

Yes, this is how my brain works. I'm not proud of it. Get used to it.

Come to think of it, we could expand Squalor to include the real lives that men lead in America. Look out Maxim! Surely not all men obsess about breast size, Armani suits, and "How to Persuade Your Girlfriend to Get a Brazilian Bikini Wax." Got an idea for Squalor? Post a comment or email it my way.