An Open Letter to Martha Stewart, or “I Ain’t Goin’ Back to Jail.”

 

 

 

 

Dear Martha Stewart,

I am writing to ask you, gently yet firmly, to stop contacting me via email and the U.S. Postal Service.

Our friendship, perhaps our co-dependency, was forged in a much different time for both of us.  Somewhere around 1996, I fell in love with your organizational skills, your quaint yet elegant homes, and your intricate fonts.  You fell in love with my $9.95 per year.

To me, you were the epitome of what I longed to be.  I was very desperate to be something other than what I was at the time.  I was trying to ignore my husband’s indiscretions, trying to ignore our problematic financial situation, trying to ignore my underemployment, my stress eating, and my lack of intellectual stimulation. I have to admit, Dear Martha, that I was simply using you as a distraction from my lackluster existence.

It’s not that you weren’t an important part of my life then.  You showed me there were homes out there beyond my 1950’s tract house addition.  You showed me there were places that served dinner with real silverware, not just sporks.  You showed me how to make handmade Christmas ornaments, which took 7 hours out of my miserable life.  Thank you for that.

But something happened along the way.  You went to jail.  I got divorced.  Funny, that at the same time you were being taken away from your freedom, I was gaining mine. You and I were both finding out there were more important things in life than knowing how to fold a fitted sheet.  We finally parted ways when I stopped paying for your magazine.  Let me explain – I needed the money for food.  Cheap food. Kraft dinners.

Through the years we’ve been apart, I’ve learned some important lessons, some that you may have learned, also. I have learned to be careful with whom you trust your secrets.  I’ve learned not to expect too much from someone just because he wears a suit for a living. I’ve learned you have to earn your success by honestly working for it. I’ve learned that you have to water plants (but maybe you knew that, already.)

As for the emails and letters I have been receiving from you lately begging me to return to your subscription family, I must politely decline and ask you to cease further contact.  I’m good. I  am happily remarried to a man who waters flowers for me and doesn’t care that I don’t have time to properly braise beef.  You see, I have gotten over my need to escape into your world of perfection.  In fact, through your very public problems, I have come to realize your world may not have been perfect, after all.  You showed us that we all have shit.  And for that, I am grateful. But I will not return to you.  I will not invest in your “good things”, because the idea of those good things led me to believe that all other things were “not good things”, and I know for a fact that they are. Store-bought chicken – good thing. An $8.95 bottle of wine – good thing. Fake Christmas trees – good thing. And by the way, votives in a vase of mixed nuts – not a good thing when it sets the nuts on fire, just so you know.

Sincerely,

Amy

Photo source: answers.com