It was kind of like a bad Target experience.  If you read my daily blog you know what I mean by “Bad Target”.  If you don’t read it then you still know what I mean…you go into Target and you spend more money than you ever planned - some of us even opt for the credit card to either hide the expense from our husband or so we just don’t have to immediately spend the cash.  It is irresistible, all those items, cards, sun block, shoes, hats, food, supplies, lamps…all that red…you get it.  You go in for a birthday present and leave with every towel and rug for a bathroom remodel. 

Ok, so I am in Barnes & Noble.  I live in Suburbia.  I live in the Pump.  I live out here on - say it with me - a “cul-de-sac”.  BUT even though this is as far from where I thought I would be at this point in my life (like on the cover of Vogue or in Europe learning my fourth language and working for the UN or married to some millionaire and therefore painting in my outdoor kitchen) I can be standing inside this store full of precious books, journals and other related materials in 5 minutes flat and be drinking a half-caf-vanilla-skim latte from Starbucks.  It is Suburbia at its finest. 

So, I am standing there in B-n-N with my basket of books and they range from Walden (my husband and I are going to re-read some classics and created a book club for well, ourselves) to A Summer Affair to Go Dog Go to Hardy Boys #12…but I had to have the People issue featuring Angelina and Brad Jolie-Pitt’s babies.  I had to.  So, even though I had The Top 500 Poems and A Tale of Two Cities as well as the other respectable books listed in my basket, I felt this internal battle of sorts. 

It was a battle of “Man, I am pathetic that I am so obsessed with all the people in People” vs. “Screw it - I want it, I have to know when they go to the bathroom and what they eat and where they travel to next.” I HAVE TO and I don’t care that I want to know. 

I stood there staring at the pink magazine and wondered when I started caring what anyone thinks about what I read.  And worse, do I even know anyone in here?  So, I darted straight for it. 

Now, I had to wait because a group of tweens and two mothers (I am sure they were fellow cul-de-sac/suburbanite/Pumpers, like me… just older) were blocking my way to that magazine.  I could see the pink glossy and the celebs holding the cute babies on the front cover. 

I was conflicted.  What is my obsession?  I know…I currently am trying to break from my corporate world and, instead of going back…I want their life - that way I can stand in the Barnes & Noble or Target and buy whatever worthless crap I want just because I can. 

Ok, so, anyway, the tween is reading US Weekly and I am thinking “Naahh” as my sister says that one is just not reliable with its information. The mother quickly looked up and said to her daughter, “No, you are buying books not those magazines.”

I stopped in my tracks for just a second realizing that my paranoia was real.  “Not those magazines” – it rang in my ears as I stood behind them waiting impatiently for them to move. 

Now I was bitter.  I knew that despite the fact that this woman probably did not even know the author of The Road Not Taken, she would judge me as I snatched that pink People like my sister T grabbing the last 50% off espadrille at Banana Republic’s grand opening sale.

The woman then had to loudly exclaim in front of her friend that her daughter reads books not trash.  It was a show.  I almost grabbed the People, rolled it up and beat her senseless with it (which would not have taken long) for being a bad (or such a real) example for Suburbian women.  It is hard enough out here. 

The truth is I didn’t really care and I quickly said “Excuse me” and grabbed the People but then I suddenly turned it backside up and started to desperately look for the Economist, which I do think is a good mag but I was not in the mood for a biz mag. I mean, was I actually going to spend 5 bucks on this other magazine because some woman in her Crocs with her Vera Bradley purse told her 13 year-old that she could only buy books? 

Well, yes - yes I was.  These thoughts flashed through my socially liberal mind…my stubborn and supposedly unaffected by the Suburbian world mind - the thoughts that surround my home, my children and live in my cul-de-sac.  I have a mental wall against these false, pretentious actions that I continually witness out here, but it may be starting to crumble…how could I care?  So, I grabbed a magazine on writing (that I do need) and still covered the People with it. 

As I walked away I heard the tween, her voice like an angel from the heavens, tell her mom to hurry up so she could get home and watch TV.  The mom mumbled to her friend that the TV watching was not happening but the tween had no mercy, the little millennial just scoffed and said, “Yes, please hurry so I can watch a lot of TV like you promised…mom.” I was so happy that for a moment I forgot the sad breaking news on people.com about Bernie Mac and I proudly slapped my People magazine on top of all my other books.  “Well,” I thought to myself, “at least my kids really don’t watch TV.”

E

Thanks for reading and look for Spying on Suburbia every Monday on Richmondchic.com…