Glamour magazine

I'm a magazine junkie.

Working out at the Y has fueled my obsession. Three days a week, I spend 40 minutes sweating, breathing hard and reading whatever gossip magazine sits in the rack. I know all about Zac Efron's relationship with Nikki Blonsky and the quality of Britney's parenting.

Now its gone beyond the Y. When tempted to grab a Snickers bar in line at the grocery store, I treat myself to a new magazine instead. I've got a nice stack hiding in a drawer.

But I willingly admit to what my husband considers a pecadillo. With two young children demanding my attention, a magazine provides the perfect moment of adulthood. In under two minutes, I am updated on children's medical controversies, cooking techniques or current events.

Case in point: Reading Glamour magazine today, I found Eve Ensler's article on women in the Congo. Its well worth reading, although sickening. And I've always been able to read these stories with some separation, thinking, Of course, I would do something if I could, but I've got young kids, and These problems are so far away, and These issues are so much bigger than me.

Certainly if I were faced with such injustice and oppression in my neighborhood, I wouldn't be able to resist fighting it.

These standard thoughts lay as a backdrop in my mind while I read Ensler's article. But then it occured to me:

I'm moving to China.
My own actions will be limited.
Those with lesser means than I will have their options much more severely limited than I.

Oppression and injustice will be in my neighborhood.

I'm afraid I'm going to lose quite a few of my excuses.