by Deb Julienne
“Okay, step back. Why did you choose each of these magazines?”
“My concept was to get all the popular magazines and then break them down to what they’re known for, how women use them, and find out what they’re lacking in or do expertly.”
“Good idea. Talk to me about how you view the content of each.”
“Okay, but no fair laughing. Let me get it out without interruption. These are all the hottest rags on the market for whatever reason. They inspire men and women, entice women to read and learn, excite men with the pictures, and to some degree they’re well done. Except—”
“Except what?”
She had to get it out. Couldn’t allow herself to be a coward. Blowing out a ragged breath, she really didn’t want to have this discussion, but at the same time she knew she had to, if she had any kind of a chance to succeed in her job. “Except that I’m none of these. If I’m honest with myself, it boils down to the fact that I’m a combination of Good Housekeeping and TV Guide with maybe a bit of Woman’s Day tossed in. Not exactly a glowing recommendation for a sexy help column.”
“Well, Kat and I do tease you about being a domestic goddess.”
The truth was the truth, no sense arguing the point.
“The question is–is that really how you want to be perceived?”
“No, but how do I change it?”
“I’m not sure I know what you mean.”
“Follow my train of thought here. If I had to define Kat, she’s the very essence of Vogue and Harper’s Bazaar, high fashion and expensive, but with the heat of the men’s rags, and the natural intellect of Cosmo. You’re the humorous side of the men’s rags. You’re playfully snarkalicious. You have Cosmo pouring out of you. Fashion and style aren’t something you concentrate on but you have the natural flare for it and always manage to look well put together like In Style and Glamour.”
“You really think of me that way?” Jill hugged herself, grinning so big it couldn’t be contained.
“Yes.”
“I’m flattered.”
“Just speaking the truth as I see it.”
“In that case let’s take another step back. How do you know your perception of the magazines is a reality? Talk to me, tell me what you think of each?”
Hands on the covers of the men’s mags, she said, “Originally, I believed the key was in Hustler, Playboy, Penthouse, and even GQ. I was narrow-minded and judgmental because their content made me feel smutty. Like all men want is any kind of sex. I expected them to have descriptions of positions and nothing but porn.”
Jill’s smile was so big, her eyes were reduced to mere slits, then she laughed and a snort slipped out. “I’m sorry Bree, I don’t mean to laugh at you, but you’re so naïve, so afraid of sex that you’re hurting yourself. The more you ignore the topic, the worse it’s going to be. For God’s sake, we’re friends. You should be able to say anything to Kat and me, but you keep it all to yourself.”
“Before you and Kat I never had a girlfriend to talk to. I never had sleepovers. No all-night gab fests. Besides, you know how I hate being laughed at. I always feel like I’m the butt of your jokes.”
“Like you don’t tease us as well?”
“Yeah, but my jokes don’t make you look stupid. I always feel stupid and I hate that feeling.”
“Why didn’t you speak up sooner? You know we’d never hurt you intentionally. I promise to be serious and help any way I can…back to the rags. Tell me what you think of them.”
“Some of the men’s magazines surprised me with their tastefully done photo spreads. Others were just what I expected, but all of them had enlightening articles on men’s health or sexuality issues.”
“The key question is what did you learn about yourself?”
“How stupid I’ve been to think I’d feel better once I looked at the men’s rags? After being confronted with airbrushed images laid out like a man’s wet dream I felt worse. I’m no Barbie.” She looked down at her non-Barbie figure. “Not even close. From this female’s perspective those magazines would make any woman’s confidence or comfort level with their own body and sexuality drop to nothing. Now if I had one of those bodies it would b a different story.”
“Touché, right on the mark but be careful what you wish for, because Kat would totally disagree. You know how much she complains about guys being too focused on her chest when she’s out on a date. Nobody has a perfect life. You should know that by now.”
“You’re right, of course, as usual.”
“What else?”
“It’s funny, but I labeled Trent and Travis all wrong as well. I always thought Trent was a GQ man, but that’s not the case. Travis is Gentleman’s Quarterly all the way, reserved, stylish, and with a hint of arrogance. Thank goodness Travis softened so much over the past week. He’s not as stuffy as he was in the beginning.”
“Yeah, Kat always said he was a tight-assed snob. What about Trent?”
“That’s easy, he’s Esquire all the way. Trendy, seductive with a hint of Playgirl, and the playful side of Mad Magazine.” She chuckled. Just saying his name made her feel warm all over. She imagined what he was doing, or rather who he was doing in Palm Springs. No, better not to go there.
“Tell me about the other magazines.”
“Cosmo is more erotic and illicit. A female’s manual on how to capture a man, weighing heavily on sexuality-based articles. The content on some of the articles makes blush more than the men’s rags.”
“But—”
“But what?”
“How is knowing what’s in these magazines going to help you? What good is all this research if you can’t see a way to help yourself?”
“Right again. Dang it Jill, what am I going to do?”
“I didn’t mean to sidetrack you. What else?”
“Vogue and Harper’s Bazaar are high fashion and expensive, most of the clothes couture right off the Paris runway. The average person couldn’t afford the fashion and those who could, wouldn’t generally wear them daily. Very Dramatic. I’d search though them for some ideas on dressing for an important date. With Marie Claire and Elle rounding out with youthful, stylish, completely on trend.”
“Good job, that’s exactly how I view them as well. Again, how is any of this going to help you?”
“I hate to admit it but if it wasn’t for these articles, I might never have taken the time to really think about the circumstances that have brought me to this point in my life.”
“What do you mean?”
“The articles I have to write are love and sex. Before rustling though them I felt totally ill-equipped to write on either. Now I’m seeing a way to separate them. Sort of.”
“Huh?”
“You know I don’t talk about myself much. I keep it all topical. I guess that’s because in my family no one talks about anything.”
“Lots of families are like that.” Jill added.
“We’re not dysfunctional, really.”
“I didn’t mean to say you were. But again, if you don’t talk about it how can we know what you mean.” Jill placed a hand on her lap. “Honey, we love you. There is nothing we wouldn’t do to help you.”
“Sex is the focus for some of my articles and while I have better understanding of that, well sort of, the concept of love and family are bigger questions now. What do I know about either topic? Nada. Zip. Nothing. I’ve spent so much time worrying about the subjects that I don’t have the time or energy left than to contemplate belly button fuzz.”
“I never understood that saying.” Jill said.
“I didn’t either until recently. Think about it.” She lifted her shirt and revealed her own. “That silly hole tied us to our mothers from the moment of conception to birth. Then suddenly you’re a part of a family. I had mom, dad, and Nickie. But what did I really know about them?”
“You lived with them. Surely you know more than you think?”
“My parents grew up in the same orphanage.”
“Oh my
God, I had no idea.” Jill’s face lost all color.
“They had an immediate connection so deep that sometimes I felt like an outsider. Neither of them talk about that time in their lives. I assumed they were trying to protect Nickie and me. They shared something they didn’t want us kids to experience.” How had she never realized this before? More than anything, that was a parent’s love. That’s when she admitted what it was she wanted out of life and marriage. “While I’ve always called Mom’s foster-mother grandma, we had no other relatives, no aunts, uncles, and cousins. Yet they never let a day lapse that we weren’t reminded we were loved in every way. No question about it.”
“Wow, you have some serious history, girlfriend. How come you’re just now talking about it?”
“My defenses must be down.”
“About time it happened. You should have told us sooner. It makes so much sense now. No wonder you’re so quiet. You hide behind your laughter, the humor of things. Like, if you can keep things light, nothing can hurt you.”
“I guess, I never really thought about it that way.”
“Did your folks tell you much about their early years?”
“Some, but not much.” Sabrina fidgeted, twisting her hair around her index finger. “I’m just so tired. One of my dad’s favorite sayings was he didn’t have the energy to blink. That’s how I feel. I’m so anxious and afraid I won’t get a handle on these articles. But I’m not a quitter.”
“Why would you have to quit?” Jill asked, shaking her head. “The idea is ludicrous.”
“What do I know about sex or love? Nothing. The only example I have is my parents and they’re hardly the norm, even if they are inspirational.”
“What’s so inspirational about them? Help me see them as you do, remember I’ve never met them?”
Thinking back to her younger years words poured out of her. “They seldom pass one another without touching. I asked my mom about it once she said boys and girls were separated at the home and the only way they connected was a touch in passing. There were the smiles and gestures that never failed to make the other smile. I can’t explain it. You had to see the gestures to know what I mean. A look shared between two people that nothing could break.”
“It sounds scary. I can’t imagine how it must have felt not to belong to anyone.”
“I know. They also shared silly phrases, words that made no sense to me but never failed to make them laugh out loud. I always believed it was their circumstances, but maybe that’s what love is?”
“What do you mean?”
“I remember once my dad was traveling for work and Mom was feeling melancholy. She opened up and told me about the time my dad left the home for the military promising to learn a trade and then he’d come back for her. And that’s just what he did. There was so much conviction in her voice. She never doubted he’d be back for her. I wanted to cry.” Her heart ached when she put herself in her parents’ shoes. Why had she never done this before? The weight of it all stunted her thought process.
“Honey, that’s love, no matter how you look at it. Your parents are definitely an inspiration. What they shared is so strong and powerful no wonder you’re having such a hard time finding the same thing for yourself. That was a different era entirely. What they went through created their connection.”
“I know. That’s what I want for myself.”
“Good luck with that. I doubt any of us will ever find that kind of love. It’s like old Hollywood legends, when they pass away, they’re but a precious memory. “
“Don’t say that. I have to believe it’s out there.”
“I know, Pollyanna. Secretly, I’d love to find it myself, but I’m not sure I believe I ever will. I hate to run off and leave you, but I have to be at the office by noon. JoAnn is covering for me next week while I’m in Denver. We have to go over some things.”
“That’s right. I forgot you’re visiting your mom. Is everything okay?”
“We’ll find out. Before I leave, after all this.” Jill pointed to the mess on the floor. “The magazine, your folks, life. What do you want for yourself? With regards to the magazines and you personally, what would you like to see changed about yourself?”
Good question. “I love the style of Vogue, I try to mimicked it in my wardrobe. But if I’m honest I’m more Marie Claire and Elle. I love fashion. And if we’re talking wish list, I’d also add a touch of Cosmo with a hint of Playboy to feel more well-rounded. But how do I adopt those philosophies and behaviors? It’s all well and good to immerse myself in the magazines, but how do I make myself more aware? I think that’s going to be the key to finding my way in this new job.”
“Key to what? You’re speaking in riddles. Technically, none of this has anything to do with love or sex. Just your own awareness.”
“Crap. You’re right.”
“Can I make a suggestion? And promise not to get mad at me for it.”
“I promise.” Her stomach twisted into a knot.
“I think you’re more afraid of yourself and that you won’t live up to the hype you’ve placed on Kat and me. I don’t think you’re afraid of sex, but rather what you don’t know about it. If that’s the case, do what you do best. Read. Research the topics that scare you. What you read may make you blush, but you’re not reading aloud or in a crowd. Do it in the privacy of your room. If you don’t know a word, look it up. You’re a great researcher. I challenge you to educate yourself. It can’t hurt.”
Jill nailed it on the head.
“I’m here if you want to talk. Sorry I have to cut and run, but I’ll be back in a couple hours if you still want to talk.” Jill ran off to her room to dress.
Sabrina couldn’t find words to comment. A shiver ran down her spine, chilling her to the bone.
Jill gave her a hug on the way out the door. “I’m meeting Kat at the Met later. It’s karaoke night. Do you want to come with?
“Ah-no. Can’t sing. Can’t dance. Let me know when you do something I can actually participate in.”
“It’s about letting off steam, nothing more. You ought to give it a try, you sound stressed. Later.”
As she pondered the magazines that mystified and flustered her so, she came to a generic conclusion. One she was determined to better define. With a renewed vigor, she attacked the rags in a state of frenzy she didn’t know she possessed, reading them cover to cover.
Six hours and twenty-two pages of notes later she sat back, excited because she had answers and a bit more focus. Her brain was on information overload and now it was up to her to process it all. Because rather than having answers she found she had even more questions.
The details she’d discovered cluttered her mind. She needed a mindless evening with Travis. At some point, he was bound to make her laugh.
Come Sunday night Sabrina sprawled on to the couch. She’d passed the weekend reading the books she’d purchased, watching the movies and spent her evenings with Travis.
There had been no change in his attitude toward her and nothing more than a chaste kiss on the forehead when he departed.
So much for romance, love, or sex.
She was nothing more than the proverbial ugly stepsister nobody wanted.
5
Sabrina awoke Monday morning refreshed and eager to research her upcoming beauty aids and cosmetics articles. Mondays were her day to try examples she’d collected during the week to see what worked, and unfortunately, what didn’t. The best part was she got to do it from home, in her nightshirt, the ratty one with the picture of Garfield scarfing lasagna, and comfy, fuzzy pink slippers.
Counter space organized, she gathered the ingredients for the mask. Her stomach churned at the thought of trying to modify the catastrophic lip-gloss. She grabbed the bag containing dried lavender, essential oils, and other bubble bath ingredients and took them into the bathroom. If the bubble bath was a success, it was sure to be a highlight to her valentine fourteen preparations for the perfect date.
In the k
itchen, she started with the mask. The oatmeal container was empty. A key ingredient. “Phooey.” She added oatmeal to her shopping list and searched the cupboards for an alternative. Oat flour would do just fine.
The recipe suggested the contents of two vitamin E capsules, but since the oils always irritated her skin, she substituted half an avocado. Avocado oil was one of the best beauty secrets in the world. With a potato masher, she annihilated the defenseless fruit then folded it in with the rest. The mixture resembled an extra thick Guacamole dip instead of a facial mask.
With an excited laugh, she retreated to her bathroom and secured her hair in a ponytail. She applied a thick layer of goop to her face, making sure to cover everything except her eyes, mouth, holes of her nose, and just under the chin. The remainder, she took to the kitchen and sealed in a plastic container in case this variation turned out well. Kat or Jill might give it a try.
No sooner had she set the bowl on the counter, her phone rang. Luckily the phone in her living room also had a speakerphone so at least the gunk on her face wouldn’t smear all over her receiver.
“Hello.”
“Hi honey, it’s Mom. I know this is the day you usually work from home. I thought I’d try to catch you before you got too involved.”
“That’s okay, Mom. I’m trying out a new mask. I can talk to you as it hardens.”
“Oh, what’s in it and what’s it supposed to do? Maybe I’ll try it. I’m not getting any younger you know.”
“Let me check the results first and if it’s any good I’ll send you the recipe.”
“Fine, dear.”
For twenty-five minutes her mother filled her in on the latest details of her family’s life, while Sabrina made notes in her notebook about the recipe, changes she’d made then tidied her front room as her mother talked and talked and talked.
She had days when she missed her parents and brother more than she cared to admit. Despite the loneliness, she was grateful for what she had and what she’d made of her life in their absence. Well, most of it anyway.
By the time she hung up and returned to the bathroom to see if her mask was dry enough, it had tightened around her face to the point she was no longer able to wiggle her chin.