I was in the bath,cocooned in bubbles, reading a magazine, thinking all was right in the world, well, at least my little world. Yet I had a niggling thorn in me refusing to allow the bliss to metastasize. I read on, ignoring the feeling in my gut while learning how to tone it in three weeks with five simple moves.
Two months later I repeated this routine with the next issue. I read about friendship troubles and how to fix them. The advice all seemed the same; join a new club, meet new people, branch out. My graduating class had around 60 kids in it, many I'd known since preschool. Branching out was not an option. It hit me like a really good novel with a crappy ending. I didn't grow up having myriad clubs to join or thirty dollars to spend on a cute necklace that might snag me a date. I could never make an awesome first impression in the fall because the teachers already knew everyone. What's a girl like me to do? I was being pulled between slick, glossy photos of teen models and my quaint village upbringing (population 1100). I was yearning for a magazine I could relate to. As Regina Spektor, singer and song writer, says,
It started out as a feeling
Which then grew into a hope
Which then turned into a quiet thought
Which then turned into a quiet word
And then that word grew louder and louder
'Til it was a battle cry
This is the magazine I was looking for and couldn't find.
I hope you enjoy this journey,
*I refer to PJ as a magazine because that is what I hope she'll become, blog format is intended as the spring board.