Sleepovers with my friends are an exact replica of what you see in the movies. After piling onto one couch, seven crazy girls spend their night watching low budget scary movies, eating junk food, logging onto Chatroulette, gossiping, and reading magazines. Reading magazines may sound like the least harmful of these activities, but this is where my guilty pleasure comes into play. We started reading Cosmopolitan magazine when one of my friends bought an issue from Meijer and brought it to a gathering one night out of curiosity. She pulled the vibrantly colored magazine out of her bag and shot the rest of us a devious look. Gathering in a circle around the publication felt like being part of a sports team getting ready to run over the game plan. As we began to shuffle through the shiny pages we read about how to get the perfect abs, dating advice, sex tips, what to wear, etc. Deep down we all know that the advice is bull shit, and that we shouldn’t even be reading this advice because none of it applies to our lives anyway! Even with this knowledge we can’t seem to put it down! After rifling through page after page we come to the end of the magazine (also known as the best part). Laughter explodes through the room as we take turns narrating an excerpt from the latest cheesy romance novel. When I read the magazines with my friends it feels acceptable, because it’s entertaining. But passing by the magazines in the checkout aisle sends a wave of temptation over me. I grab the latest issue and think to myself, “I’ll just check out one of the cover stories and put it back”. But after holding it in my hands I cannot resist. The feeling of shame washes over me after I reach into my pocket and pull out four dollars. I look around to see if anyone is watching as I rush over to the self-scan machine, and quickly stuff the magazine into a plastic bag. Make that two plastic bags.
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