My journey into the realm of youthful crushes began at the tender age of 11, right in the produce aisle of a grocery store. While my mom was busy inspecting the lettuce, my curiosity led me to the nearby magazine rack. There, my gaze fell upon a vibrant magazine with “BOP” printed in bold, pink, bubbly letters. This teen fan mag had crossed my path before, but this particular day felt different. While Kirk Cameron’s face dominated the cover, it was a smaller image of Michael J. Fox that truly captured my attention.
I adored reruns of Family Ties, yet I couldn’t quite understand why I was so enchanted by the show. Every evening at 7:30, I would sneak into my parents’ room to watch it on their tiny TV. The thought of sharing this experience with my family felt wrong; it was something I needed to keep to myself. That all changed when I laid eyes on Michael J. Fox’s captivating smile in that magazine. Suddenly, I was head over heels. I had to own that magazine.
As I caught sight of the $1.95 price tag, my heart sank. I could already hear my mom’s classic response: “Maybe later,” which was basically her way of saying “Not a chance!” But before returning the magazine to its spot, I gave it a quick flip-through and—oh, fate was on my side!—it opened right to a mini poster of Michael J. Fox. Fueled by a mix of hormones and sheer desperation, I made a rash decision.
I stole the mini poster. My heart raced as I glanced around to ensure no one was watching, including my mom. Slowly, I tore it out, careful not to rip it.
“Lila, you’re stealing!” my conscience screamed.
“But it’s for love!” my teenage self retorted.
Once I successfully pocketed his gorgeous face, I was a bundle of nerves walking out of that store, half-expecting a security guard to tackle me for my audacious crime. Guilt gnawed at me on the drive home, but when I finally entered my room and saw Michael’s glossy face looking back at me, it felt like we were meant to be together. I carefully tucked him under a book to flatten out the creases and then taped him inside my Trapper Keeper for easy access at school.
But soon, one poster simply wasn’t enough. A return trip to the grocery store revealed yet another BOP issue, and there he was again, this time flaunting a centerfold in jeans and a white shirt, glancing back like a Canadian Bruce Springsteen. I couldn’t resist; I took it too.
After that, though, the guilt hit hard, and I vowed to stop my thieving ways. Yet my hunger for Michael J. Fox memorabilia only intensified. I needed a fix, and BOP wasn’t cutting it anymore. I discovered other teen magazines, like Tiger Beat, which offered even more treasures.
Eventually, I managed to earn some cash and bought my first magazine legitimately. I dissected every Michael J. Fox pinup and article I could find. By the time New Kids on the Block took the world by storm, my magazine obsession was in full swing. My friend Benny, whose stepmom owned a bookstore, became my go-to source for all the latest issues, including those hard-to-find ones like Big Bopper, which was nothing but centerfolds! He sold them at a steal, but they would fly off the shelves by lunchtime.
Yes, I had a magazine dealer, and no, I’m not ashamed to admit it. But despite my walls being plastered with posters—each dedicated to my various crushes—I never felt satisfied.
One particularly frustrating morning, I approached Benny, hoping for something good. Instead, he only had a YM magazine and a Thrasher. My disappointment was palpable. “What am I supposed to do with this? Where’s the good stuff?” I nearly yelled. It turned out another girl had snagged all the good magazines, and I was determined to find her, convinced I could take her down for my rightful stash.
In hindsight, I realized how ridiculous that was. I later apologized to that girl, Claire, for my death stares and even declined her kind offer of an extra BOP issue. That incident marked the decline of my magazine obsession. I let my subscription to Super Teen lapse and ignored Benny’s morning offers. By year’s end, most of my posters came down, leaving only a couple of Donnie Wahlberg, soon replaced by a giant Mark Wahlberg Calvin Klein poster.
Reflecting on that time brings a mix of nostalgia and a touch of embarrassment. I miss the carefree days when my biggest worry was how to sneak a poster out of a store, but I regret my less-than-honorable tactics to get what I wanted.
So, to the poor girl who discovered a missing poster from a BOP magazine years ago: it was me. I’m truly sorry.
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Summary:
This humorous reflection captures the nostalgia of a young girl’s obsession with teen magazines and her crush on Michael J. Fox. The author recounts her unconventional methods of collecting posters, her youthful misadventures, and the lessons learned along the way.