July 10, 2008 - Thursday (bringing over a few old Myspace blogs)
Something bad happened today. Something very, very bad. I arrived home after a week long vacation and went to the mailbox, expecting to find the usual- lots of junk mail and bills, maybe a Netflix movie. I was not prepared for what I found. I had no idea it was coming. I was blindsided. In my mailbox, lurking in the hot dark space, was.... A LADIES HOME JOURNAL MAGAZINE!!!
Surely this cannot be, I told myself. Surely it is a mistake. Surely, like the child support notices and medical coding newsletters we get, it was meant for a previous apartment tenant. This will all be OK, I told myself, as my trembling hands flipped the magazine over. But there it was, in plain capiltalized Helvitica or whatever that font is, was MY name and address. How, how did it come to this?
My MOM gets Ladies Home Journal. My GRANDMOTHER gets Ladies Home Journal. That's not me! That's not my marketing demographic! One short year ago, I was a "hip young professional!" I was a well-educated, unmarried 20something that marketing machines spend tons of money advertising their tiny overpriced condos to. They told me which risque television shows I just had to be watching. They told me what designer vodka would help me to find my place in life. And now, because one stray sperm found its way to my unsuspecting egg, I am a totally new consumer. I somehow got subscribed to Ladies Home Journal, with such compelling reads as "Roast with the Most!" and the ever dramatic, "Can This Marriage be Saved?" I am not being told which designer handbag I cannot live without, I am now being told which coupons will help me save the most when I prepare my family's nutritious dinners.
Yes, having a baby truly changes everything.