My favorite magazines as a young girl were, of course, Tiger Beat, with all the latest heartthrobs, and Cosmopolitan, with their racy covers. Most of my allowance went towards purchasing these magazines, Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, and lip-gloss. I eventually outgrew Tiger Beat, but Cosmo remained a staple for a long time. (Reese’s and lip gloss are still high on my list.)
So you can imagine my thrill at having my first piece up on Cosmopolitan.com. It is a writer’s and card-carrying Cosmo Girl’s dream come true. This is where I spill the beans, maybe even a few tears, about something you probably don’t know about me. Perhaps you feel the same way?
“Mom,” my daughter said, “why are you crying?”
“It’s just … so beautiful,” I said, wiping away tears.
“It’s just a commercial.” Major eye-roll.
So, I’m a crier. There, I said it. I can’t help that I’m deeply touched by babies, and puppies, tearful good-byes, and grandfathers holding their grandchildren’s pudgy little hands while they take their first wobbly steps.
I cry during movie trailers and commercials, to the embarrassment of my children, which is why comedies are my go-to. I am too easily moved by life’s hard knocks. Somewhere deep inside is my raw, beating heart, aware of all the sadness and pain that exists in the world and always ready to spring forth a geyser from my eyes at the mention of someone’s pain or loneliness or bad fortune. It’s not uncommon to see tears streaming down my cheeks during a good book either. I’m an equal-opportunity crier.