VOGUE GAVE ME HUGE BALLS....and an insight into my allergies.

This evening, prior to dragging myself to the gym in a valiant effort to stave off unemployment blight around the mid-section, I decided to attack the huge pile of junk mail and magazines threatening to fall off the table and kill my loyal furry husband.

While going through the numerous offers of high-interest, low-limit credit card offers, and browsing through the numerous coupon catalogs the mailman daily insists on cramming into my letterbox, I came across the last two issues of VOGUE still encased in their protective mailing plastic. These had been placed on the table in the hopes that one day they would win their eternal battle with cable TV and be read.

I don't know what came over me but in an instant I decided that I would brave the prejudices of my gym - the bastion of heterosexuality here in the Chicago suburbs - and carry the May issue of VOGUE to read while walking on the treadmill. "It may be the epitome of heteros here - but it is still gay church to me," I thought as I got into my car.

As I walked to the entrance of the gym my bravado faltered slightly and I decided to fold the magazine in half lengthwise with the masthead hidden - after all, I did not need to advertise my business to the sweaty young punks that frequented the establishment.

I scanned in my tag at the entrance to register and walked confidently to the bank of treadmills at the far side of the room. Halfway to my destination I got bolder and brashly released my hold on the loose end of the magazine - holding it by the spine, not caring if anyone sees the cover. "I mean, it's not as if I am drawing attention to myself..." I told myself as I carried out the action.

As soon as that thought ran through my brain no less than four of those numerous postcard sized, no-postage necessary subscription offers that are crammed in every issue easily slid out of the magazine and fluttered loudly to the ground, the brightly advertised SUBSCRIBE TO VOGUE NOW printed in bright 4-inch red letters face-up for all passer-bys to see. One even landed right by the foot of a young, buffed, much tattooed personal trainer giving tips to his client.

Although I was totally mortified I held my head high, picked up the advertising litter from the floor, crumpled and tossed them without flourish into the trash not DARING to look to either side. I continued my walk to the bank of treadmills and thought to myself, "Lord, you sure have a warped sense of humor...."

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While on the treadmill I came across an article theorizing why reports of allergies are increasing as each year passes. The writer interviewed members of the medical world who theorized many reasons - one which attributed the increase to the rise in carbon dioxide and subsequent global warming. The thinking behind this is that more CO2 in the atmosphere has boosted the annual production of blooms on trees and plants (that thrive on CO2) saturating the air with more pollen than normal. Also, with global warming spring has been arriving earlier and earlier starting the blossoming season earlier and lasting longer. society. Today's population is being exposed to pollen and microbes from lands that were previously unattainable to most people.

Another hypothesis is based on modern society's obsession with cleanliness. The more we clean, the less microbes we expose ourselves to - leaving us with a weaker than normal immune system to cope with the bombardment of various germs and bacteria of highly our integrated society .

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I finished my 45-minute torture on the treadmill - my head filled with bold designs from Prada, tailored cuts from the master Dior, classic lines from Chanel, clunky-but-divine shoes from Gucci and Louis Vitton - and decided to leave my read copy of VOGUE on the treadmill, available for a fashion thirsty female patron....or maybe a closeted male vamp?

The torch had been passed and without incident. It only goes to show - vogue IS accepted everywhere.