a sucker.

I'm a sucker.


Not gullible, not common-sense challenged, not afraid in any way of confrontation.


A sucker.


I'm an advertiser's dream. Short of buying things off of the TV and texting 'match' to 4469 or whatever that gimmick text-messaging scam is, I'm not a hard sell. If I see Taylor Swift singing her heart out while wearing some Covergirl lipstick, I will google the shit out of it until I find the exact shade of lipstick. The color may look like shit on me, but by then it's too late because by then I've already let my imagination run rampant and seen myself up on stage, crooning to a jam-packed stadium of adoring fans, and BY GOD if I'm not there yet, that LIPSTICK will nudge me the rest of the way.

Right?

I know that I'm not Taylor Swift, and I really have no desire to be famous,  sing in front of thousands of people,  or even be blonde; I genuinely like being a brunette, for all intents and purposes. But the picture of it all, the entire scene laid out that way and the hint of a promise that I could have it all, it reaches out and snatches me from the doldrums of my significantly less glamour-filled life. Hey, at least I can wear the same lipstick though, that's something. So I'll go to five different stores just to find it, because I've obviously got nothing better to do, like the dishes, or exercise, or figureout what I actually DO have a snowball's chance in hell of succeeding at in the long-run.

Sucker.

When a Target commercial comes on, I will, I kid you not,  SHUSH the other people in the room. Even if I'm a guest in their home. They don't even say anything in Target commercials, I swear it's always just some cheerfully covered Beatles song or something. But Target sells me the idea of a squeaky-clean life, where everything exists in coordinating colors, and filth and rubbish and ugly carpet don't exist. Um, duh. OF COURSE I'm listening when they're talking. Target doesn't have bad hair days, they've got every product under the sun to make your hair look just like their models. Target doesn't have piles of clutter and old mail that no one bothered to organize, it has file folders and office organizers.

Etc, etc, every other GD store with a commercial in print, radio, or television.

I know it's not feasible, that nothing I can buy will give me exactly what I want- but they make it seem that easy, so WHY CAN'T IT JUST BE THAT SIMPLE? I just need this or that and everything will be peachy fucking keen.


Sucker.


And finally, when I get in front of the boob tube and there's a show on with meaningless petty drama, pretty dresses, and women who feel entitled to fame because they have too much money and wear too much makeup- I will stare glassy-eyed until the conclusion of the show. I don't know these people, nor do I want to ever meet them. But it's REALLY hard not to get sucked into what they think is crucially important for an hour. Because honestly, their stupid problems make me feel better, and they're supposed to be the ones who have it ALL.

Which is why I'm addicted to Big Rich Texas- where the biggest concern on any given day is who is breaking the rules at the country club and who's daughter has an inappropriate tattoo.

TIME WASTER

I will watch the show and then I will NEED to know more. I will find out when the show is on. I will record it. I will walk away when it's all said and done feeling worse about humanity and also about myself for getting so involved. I will vow to never do it again and the moment some similar shit show display of life lived on the shallow end pops up in front of me, I won't be able to look away.


Because I am a sucker.



And you know what, all of this is responsible in large part, for why I practically never turn on the TV by choice.

Xo Sare