A friend recently commented that I should keep the blogs coming because they’re her guilty pleasure. Thanks so much for the lovely compliment, Neks!
Surely unless you’re doing something morally wrong though like shagging a married man (I’m not), what’s guilty about pleasure? There’s enough in life to feel bad about without getting the guilts because you’re a Kardashi-fan (not me) or like to eat an ice lolly in bed with a book on a Sunday morning (me).
Asking friends what their guilty pleasures are I had responses such as ‘chocolate and chocolate cake’; ‘lovely stationery’; ‘interior design magazines’; ‘a lie in on Saturday’; and my personal favourite and one which could easily be mine, ‘buying books’.
Trash TV is also regularly a ‘guilty’ pleasure, as if watching women say yes to a big white dress or perma-tanned wannabes shagging their way round a villa is something to feel bad about. It’s not a great cultural addition to the world and will never be held in high regard but inherently there’s nothing wrong with it.
I think all this guilt is about judgement because you know there will always be someone who thinks your idea of pleasure is daft. But then, if you’re the sort of person who lets someone judge you for buying Tatler, or eating peanut butter from the jar then aren’t you the daft one?
I think Dave Grohl says it best…
“I don’t believe in guilty pleasures. If you fucking like something, like it. That’s what’s wrong with our generation: that residual punk rock guilt, like, “You’re not supposed to like that. That’s not fucking cool.” Don’t fucking think it’s not cool to like Britney Spears’ “Toxic.” It is cool to like Britney Spears’ “Toxic”! Why the fuck not? Fuck you! That’s who I am, goddamn it! That whole guilty pleasure thing is full of fucking shit.”