Dear Ten Year Old Boy who blazes through the magazines aisles minutes before the library is set to close, quickly flipping through pages of Shape/Esquire/Women's Health/Gentlemen's Quarterly/Rolling Stone to catch fleeting glimpses of oiled up cleavage/barely concealed nipples/curvy hips/shapely thighs before someone passes by and figures out what you are doing,
I know what you are doing. I'm watching you with a half smile on my face not because I think you are a good son who is looking for healthy exercise tips for your mom, or the perfect Father's day present for your dad, but because I don't blame you for having a natural tendency to be curious and, by many people's standards at least, slightly perverted. I'd feel even more uncomfortable if I saw you flipping through O, the Oprah Magazine (I have a special post dedicated to Oprah coming up).
Don't hate the playa, hate the game,
bianca
I was going to link those magazines to pictorial examples but...you can look it up yourself.
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