Here’s the thing about guilty pleasures: you have to feel guilty about them. And you know what? I don’t feel all that guilty about most of the pastimes I enjoy. Fluffy romantic comedies? Love ’em. Reading Us Weekly while getting a pedicure? Yes, please. Wearing my pajamas until 2 p.m. on a Sunday? Bring. It. On.
But I suppose there are a few activities I enjoy that, while not guilt-inducing on my end, may cause a few raised eyebrows amongst those who don’t know me (or maybe amongst those who do). So, taking a cue from Deb Kerry, I present them here for you, in list form.
1. Eating whipped cream straight out of the can. I know. I’ve already lost some of you. But I’m sorry, you haven’t lived until you’ve done this at least once. When it comes to homemade desserts, I always whip my own cream, but a face full of Reddi-wip is a beautiful thing.
2. “Evening out” the edges of baked goods. I like to fancy myself a prodigy in the area of straight lines and right angles. Hand me a half-eaten cake, pie, or loaf of bread, and I will show you that the edge is not, in fact, level and needs the handiwork of Deb Dana and her trusty knife to even everything out. I will then consume the scraps — you know, so they don’t go to waste. Note: If you do this while standing up, you officially consume zero calories.
3. Stalking former classmates on Facebook. Okay, stalking is a strong word. “Checking up on” is probably more appropriate. But I love seeing what former classmates are up to, even if we don’t keep in touch anymore. I also secretly live in fear that they know I’m checking out their profiles. Let’s hope Mark Zuckerberg never implements a technology like that. (Seriously, Mark. Don’t ever do that.)
4. Wasting lots of time online. This is sort of a continuation of #3, but I have found many time sucks beyond Facebook: Houzz, Twitter, Piperlime, too many food blogs to count, Goodreads, Pinterest — and so forth.
5. TV marathons. Be it James Bond, Breaking Bad, or Chopped, I love a good marathon. Admittedly, my brain starts to hurt after a certain number of episodes, but up until then, all I need is a supply of snacks, and I’m set for the afternoon.
For the record, I suspect in two months (!), I will no longer have the luxury of indulging in numbers 3, 4, and 5. But numbers 1 and 2? They’re here to stay.
Talk to me. Am I alone in these so-called guilty pleasures? Did you judge me — just a little — when you learned I’ve eaten whipped cream from a can?
Photo courtesy of Roadsidepictures