As you might know from reading my books, each of my heroines has a guilty pleasure (or six). Recently I read Janet Evanovich’s How I Write, and she referred to this as “drug of choice.” Apparently, Stephanie Plum’s drug of choice is doughnuts. Hey, sister, welcome to the club! Jennifer Crusie also elevated the love affair so many of us have with doughnuts, Krispy Kremes in particular. Bridget Jones sticks with the more traditional overindulgence of alcohol and the occasional Pride & Prejudice marathon.

 

There’s something so humanizing about a guilty pleasure…we know we shouldn’t indulge in it but can’t quite resist, especially when the chips are down. In Fools Rush In, Millie turns to Cheetos when all seems lost. In Just One of the Guys, Chastity loved junk food and lots of it, as well as regular doses of Viggo Mortenson in Lord of the Rings. Grace in Too Good To Be True turned to Disgustingly Rich Brownies (recipe on my website, just in case you feel the need). And Lucy, the heroine of my upcoming novel The Next Best Thing, is a pastry chef who indulges in Twinkies. All of my heroines love Ben & Jerry. What woman doesn’t?

 

To be a true guilty pleasure, there has to be a trashy element, don’t you think? That’s why it’s guilty. For example, you can’t say that watching CNN is your guilty pleasure, because it educates and informs you. If you say that watching Anderson Cooper is your guilty pleasure because you ignore everything he says and just picture him naked and smeared in olive oil, hello! Now you have something to feel guilty about!

 

My own guilty pleasure…prepare yourself to think less of me, folks…is America’s Next Top Model. Now, now, settle down. I don’t watch it regularly. Maybe…I don’t know…once a month? Every other month? Okay, I’ll confess…there was that New Year’s Eve when McIrish worked and I inherited a couple extra kids who ran me ragged until about 11 p.m.. When I finally collapsed into my chair, there was nothing on…except a MARATHON of America’s Next Top Model! Whoo-hoo! For the next few happy hours, I rang in the new year with Tyra, trying to follow her instructions to lengthen my neck and make my eyes savage …hard when shoveling clam dip into my mouth, though I did eventually master being “mm-mm-mm” instead of “uh-uh-uh.”

 

Guilty pleasures, though trashy and pointless and often fattening, make us happy. Hence the pleasure part. Occasional indulgences are necessary, after all. Sure, we may wake up with a Cheeto hangover or feel a tinge of self-disgust at wasted hours in front of meaningless TV, but without guilty pleasures, maybe life would feel a little too squeaky clean.

 

So spill! What are those not-very-good-for-you things you do, eat or watch when you need a pick-me-up? Why does that particular guilty pleasure work so very well?