I'm not too sure if it's because I'm now a wife and something in my brain cortex is being secretly and inadvertently drawn to uber-sensitive, girly, chick lit, chick movies, and things of my childhood-like Disney movies! Sure, I've always been drawn to shows and books that have a somewhat disjointed romantic plot weaved within them, but geesh...I've really hit the female hormone overload! My face hasn't graced the pristene silencing walls of a library in years for other than the occasional school text book and just a few days ago I went bras-to-the-walls and borrowed three whole novels (each one long enough to take me six months to read) and one by Bill Crosby called "Come On People!" Now that I have this overwhelming stack of hardcover books staring at me everyday, I have made a plan to take two back and keep one novel "Shoe Addicts Anonymous" -totally chick lit, and the Bill Crosby book- to make me feel like maybe I'm learning something other than how to buy the newest pair of Manolo Blahniks at somewhat of a reasonable price, like less than $1,000. Ridiculous! I feel absurd and still somewhat whole and well rounded reading books that contain no substance other than expensive martinis and retail shopping at no consequence except for maybe the bad credit that will follow one that is a shopaholic likened in the heroic characters of my newly profound novels.
This world is completely foreign to me! I don't know whether I should try to control my urge to read these type books, in fear that they will rub off on me and my already ----aholic tendencies will continue and even worsen, or do I run with it- this is my new style, my new "grown-up" (ironic to me in a sense) way of thinking and interest. I suppose until I decide to stop all of the confusion and go with my usual choice of read: the self-help book, I will journey through the dangerous world of female drama and wishful thinking. Adios to the world of reality and depth, and a giant two checked "mmuah, mmuah" to the land of girly obliviousness!
