"Oooooh! Good Housekeeping!" I chirped. And immediately wanted to swallow my tongue. Three words I never thought would cross my lips had just confirmed my status of Mother and Housewife (Housegirlfriend?) extraordinaire.
Good Housekeeping? Good Grief! What have I become? When did I trade in my mis-spent youth for a reasonably priced adulthood?
For those of you not familiar with this monthly publication, I want you to imagine the cheapest, filthiest celeb rag around, something like "Closer" or "Heat" or "Star." Now, take out all the celebs, slash the sex and get rid of the gossip. Replace with non contraversial, clean living female role models (This month features the mother of the Jonas Brothers) and articles on such scintillating topics as flower arranging, healthy dinners and thousands of ways to tighten your tummy. Throw in a few money saving tips and heartwarming stories and there you go. Porn for the middle aged and menopausal.
And now apparently, for me as well.
When did this happen? When did I switch from "How to Look Good Naked" to "How Clean is your house?" When did I stop caring about Posh and Becks and start caring about Kim and Aggie? When did my wardrobe go from "Fun and Funky" to "Frumpy and Functional?"
When exactly did I grow up? And did I maybe go too far?
Is it possible to find a happy medium? One where "Frumpy and Functional" can become "Frugal yet fashionable?"
And if I do manage to revert from my current mental age of 109 back to my real age of 29, is there room in there for the occasional "Good Housekeeping?"