I’m not much of a magazine reader. Mostly because I never have time to read them from cover to cover, so they tend to pile up in the corner. Thereby making me feel guilty and inadequate at every turn.
On the odd occasion I pick up a magazine, it’s usually The Economist, or Fast Company. I’ve never been one to pour over women’s magazines. You know, the ones extolling the virtues of the latest fashion trends and offering self-help tips which promise to help you make over your life, lose 15 pounds, please your man and/or find the love of your life in 10 steps or less.
That isn’t to say that I’m not compelled to flip through the glossy pages of one of these publications on occasion. If, for example, one happens to be lying around when I’m at otherwise loose ends.
As it so happens, one of those occasions was last night. After work I went for a long walk with my niece Jessica, who is visiting with my sister Trish. When we returned to the house, sweaty and near exhaustion, my father had just tuned into the Yankees game. Yawn. Not wanting to appear completely anti-social (although I have to say it was tempting), I picked up a magazine lying on the coffee table. I’m assuming Trish had bought it, since it wasn’t one of the flight training manuals which typically clutter up that particular surface.
It was, in fact, the September issue of Real Simple. While I’d seen it’s glossy cover gracing magazine stands, I’d never picked it up before. As I paged through, I glanced at the pictures of uber-skinny models wearing clothes I’d never dream of draping on my frame, drooled over the fabulously overpriced footwear and half read some fairly inane suggestions about alternative uses for socks and some random recipes involving corn flakes.
Then, filed away under “Life Lessons: Expertise,” I found a piece somewhat outside the typical self-help realm. It was entitled, “5 mistakes everyone should make.”
I was instantly intrigued. Normally, these little snippets of supposed wisdom are designed to help you avoid common pitfalls, not encourage them. As a chronic mistake-maker - heck I’m practically a pro - I found this to be a rather unique angle, particularly since each of the 5 suggestions had been penned by someone successful in their chosen field.
Pithy piece of advice #1: Totally embarrass yourself.
Been there; done that. And who hasn’t? My greatest hits could certainly top the static cling-induced moment of angst offered by renowned psychotherapist and author of Reviving Ophelia, Mary Pipher. One that particularly sticks in my mind was an excruciating embarrassing wardrobe malfunction at the lavish wedding of my friends Sara and Michael Vanek.
I fell in love with my dress as soon as I put it on in the Macy’s dressing room. It was stunning - a long black number with a dramatic slit, spaghetti straps and a not-too-low-cut bodice, with a dash of sparkle. My only concern was those dainty little straps, but my mother - who was, as always, my shopping partner - loved it too. So I bought it.
Which, in retrospect, was not the wisest of decisions. Mid-way through the Vanek’s incredibly Italian wedding, my, um, décolletage, apparently overwhelmed the aforementioned straps. Fabric stretched which shouldn’t have and my lovely dress went from fabulous to floozy in no time flat.
I didn’t notice it at first. But Sara’s old Italian uncles did. Suddenly, they all wanted to dance with me. Which I found flattering, until my friend Liz edged me off the dance floor.
When I reappeared, I was enveloped in my gauzy black wrap. Which, thankfully, I’m wearing in most of the photographic evidence of the occasion. Not that I’ll never live the experience down, of course. Liz and all the rest of my friends will make sure of that.
Pithy piece of advice #2: Ruffle people’s feathers.
This second tidbit, offered by Research Scholar Mary C. Gentile, PH.D., caused me no small amount of consternation. I’m all for ruffling feathers, don’t get me wrong. It is, after all, something of a job requirement. I just never considered it a mistake.
