Another Oprah Quandary

No matter how much I don’t want to like Oprah, I do.

I’m not a regular viewer – haven’t been for years now. I think I stopped watching when the audience was taken over by giddy suburban housewives who dress up for the occasion and shake when Oprah enters the room.

But that’s exactly the reason I watch the annual Favorite Things show. My favorite thing about Oprah’s Favorite Things is the feeling I get about ME. I live for that holiday feeling of condescension I get from watching a group of silly women gush and jump and scream and cry and raise their hands to the Heavens over Oprah’s favorite panini maker.

But, each year, I’m also sucked in to all the shininess and find myself making a note about at least one of the “things”. I research and sometimes….I even buy. I hate myself for it, but I do. At least I don’t gush, though. I refuse to gush.

And then today, I stumbled upon a column written by a gal named Lisa Kogan. In my perfect world, I would write like Lisa Kogan. She says in one sentence what I need paragraphs to say. She’s witty, smart, natural, and fun. She says what I’m thinking most of the time. She writes about living her own life by her own rules and I just love that.

But, come to find out, Kogan writes for O Magazine. Damm you, Oprah Winfrey! If loving you is wrong, I guess I just can’t be right. But I’m not gushing. Or shaking. Or shopping for show outfits.