Hopping on the Bandwagon

I am not one to give in to peer pressure.  In fact, I generally stray as far away from the norm as possible.  When all the cool kids in middle school and high school were shopping at The Gap, I refused to even walk in the store.  If we were at the mall together, I would respectfully inform my peers that I did not shop in The Gap and triumphantly stand outside the store as they gave in to the trendy jeans and hoodie sweatshirts.  Yeah, that’s about as non-conformist of a statement as I could make back then and I was pretty proud of myself.

As I aged, I kept that same stubbornness for the most part but lately, especially in this one particular aspect of my life, I feel like I’m caving and it’s time to come clean. 

I have allowed myself to be pressured into reading "what everyone else is reading".

I did really well resisting Harry Potter when that first came out.  In fact, the only reason why I read the first Harry Potter is because I found myself on Martha’s Vineyard for a week with nothing to read.  I had already breezed through whatever intellectually stimulating literature I had brought with me so I scoured the house that I was staying in for my next beach read.  The only, and I literally mean the only book in the house was the first Harry Potter book.  I read it in one day and then proceeded to buy the second one at the local bookstore.  Before I knew it, I owned the series and cried when Dobby the Elf died.  Who didn’t?!

Next came Twilight.  Being a high school English teacher means that I have to be interested in what the kids are reading.  Doesn't it?  Well, this is what I told myself when I was “forced” to read Twilight.  A ninth grade girl handed me her copy of the first book and insisted that I read it.  I dragged my feet a little bit.  I mean, teenage vampires?  Seriously?  But she checked in with me daily, “Did you read it yet?”, “How far are you?”, “Team Edward or Team Jacob?”.  Finally I just started reading so I could give her her book back guilt-free.  Needless to say, before I knew it I found myself at the midnight premier of “Eclipse” wearing the homemade Twilight t-shirt my friends and I had gathered together to make that day.

When The Hunger Games series appeared on the desk of a troubled ninth grade boy, I admit that I was automatically intrigued.  I could feel my cool non-conformist ways weakening.  This kid was failing freshman English and wouldn’t read one line of anything that I handed him, but The Hunger Games came with him to class.  Then Catching Fire appeared a week later and then there was Mockingjay.  This kid, whose mother had kicked him out of the house, whose main goal in life was to skateboard and whose GPA was a 1.5 was so enamored with this series that once Mockingjay was done, he went back to re-read The Hunger Games all over again.  I knew the second The Hunger Games reappeared on his desk that my guard was down.  I succumbed to the pressure and read the series.  Yep, I also saw the movie.

So what’s the big deal?  There are worse things that you can be pressured to do than to read, right?  Well, that is what I thought until I gave in to the most recent reading fad.  I’m sure you’ve heard about them.  Someone you know is probably reading them right now.  You may have even read them.  Maybe you even enjoyed them and plan to see the movie (God, I hope there isn’t a movie!!!). 

                                      I’m talking about the Fifty Shades of Grey series. 

I am smack in the middle of the second book, Fifty Shades Darker, and rather than thanking the bandwagon for taking me along for this ride, I am loathing every minute of it.  Gone are the tingles of titillation that occurred during book one’s graphic sex scenes, gone is the anticipation of the character’s next trip to the “Playroom of pain” and LONG gone is the interest in the lame-ass flimsy excuse for a main female character.  Instead, I now find myself skimming the erotica sections and just thinking “please let me get to the end of the storyline so I just know what happens!”  Why oh why did I let myself conform to this when, as a youngin, I could put my foot down and not even step foot in a store while shopping with my friends?

 I feel so ashamed.  As I near the end of book two my distain for myself grows.  It festers.  I read on and on, nearing the end of this second book and all I can think is …

Does anyone have a copy of book three I can borrow?