I will never understand the person who decided to combine the words guilty and pleasure. For me, there is only one kind of pleasure. What even makes it something to feel guilty about? Why do we keep these pleasures safely tucked away in a little box, hidden in a corner of a secret drawer. Whether hipsters approve or not, I am proud of every single one of my 'guilty pleasures'.
Wouldn’t the world be a more beautiful place if we could all be proud of our love for George Michael? Our two hour long weepfest during Whitney Houstons documentary? Our extended teenage boysband crush? The five liter box of rose wine in our fridge? The real reason we were late for the party: disco naps. Every time.
Believe me, we have all been running to a night shop in our PJ’s to buy nasty rainbow coloured chocolates because we’ve already spooned out a jar of Nutella and it just wasn’t enough to satisfy our guilty pleasure needs. Or how about watching eight hours of ‘Ex on The Beach Double Dutch’ at once and not being able to think or dream of anything else the next week?
I admit, sometimes guilty pleasures take control over my life and I’m spending my last money on a Fame record. As long as it makes me happy and I’m not hurting anyone by blasting ‘she’s a maniac’ for days on end, I don’t think I’ll ever stop indulging in pleasures. You might call them guilty, I just call them awesome.