Bookworm

Self-help: What's it helping?

According to the "Freedom from Self-Improvement Day" website, about $700 million worth of self-improvement books were sold in 2005. The number of self-help books has double since 1972, and one in three Americans report having bought a self-help book. Why are Americans so fascinated with reading these books?

I am just as guilty as the rest. I scoff at some of the cornier self-improvement books, but I own several of my own, and each time I buy one I think it is finally going to fix everything. When I bought "The Money Book for the Young, Fabulous & Broke" by Suze Orman I was convinced I would finally become adept at managing my limited finances, and learn to be content with the money I have. But I'm still broke! When I bought "The Dorm Room Diet" by Daphne Oz, I knew I would finally start establishing healthy eating habits and stop wasting so much money on candy and soda. But I still love candy and soda! When I bought "The Abs Diet for Women" last summer (I bought this one at a book sale for $2, and didn't actually pick it out at the store for full price, so I don't feel quite as guilty this time) I was sure I would have killer abs. But while I am no Pillsbury Doughboy, my abs don't look much different than before I owned the book.

Not only do I buy these self-help books with a sense of excitement and hope that they will perfect my life, but I also buy countless magazines. I try to rationalize this impulsive buying with the fact that I want to write for a magazine some day and it's good research, but I know it's all a sham. I am just addicted to magazines! I want to know all the trends of the season, even though I never buy the clothes advertised. I want to know all the new exercise moves, even though I probably won't try them. I want to know all the new makeup products available, even though I have plenty of makeup already. I want to know what everybody else knows, that I don't know. I just want, want, want! Even after I get all the magazines in the mail that I subscribe to, I still buy more of them in the store. As soon as I see a magazine in the checkout line with a celebrity I like on the cover or with some absurd promise to make me the happiest person alive, I snatch it up. And I feel so happy and content when I read the magazine for the first time, but deep down I know that I will never use any of the shopping advice when I'm actually shopping, or any of the health advice when I'm actually eating, or the relationship advice in any of my real relationships.

Why do Americans feel the need to have the perfect life? Why can't they find contentment? Why do we always want more? Why do we always want what everyone else has?

I don't know the answers to any of these questions. Maybe someone will publish a self-help book to help me get over my need for self-help.