This morning I spent a good 35 minutes helping my son look for the chocolate bar he’d hidden in the back of the cupboard the night before. We never found it though, mainly because I’d eaten it last night… along with the rest of the ice cream and red wine. And hey, before you judge me, what else are you supposed to eat when watching The Real Housewives of Melbourne?
Okay, so yes, I have guilty pleasures (and yes I mean plural). We all know what a guilty pleasure is right? It’s film, food, television program or a piece of music that we appreciate in private, in secret, or probably both. These aren’t necessarily bad, but maybe we enjoy them a bit too much or too often. Judge away people, judge away. Those without sin cast the first stone right?
The thing is, with three children I get to enjoy very little of these simple pleasures, and very little of these whilst alone anymore. Especially when it comes to my food. I swear that my kids were born with both ultra-sonic hearing and smell so that the MINUTE I open anything tasty, they appear at my feet like puppies. But just not as cute.
Like when I quietly tear open my favourite new flavour of Weis Ice Cream Bar – a refreshing combination of strawberry, watermelon and lychee alongside a classic cream strip. As with all Weis Bars, it is made with real fruit, has no artificial colours or flavours, and is gluten free. The exotic combination of flavour of the three summer fruits is unbelievably tasty.
So good in fact, it gave me somewhat of an epiphany.
Why should I feel “guilty” about something that is so damn good?
So I decided, no longer I am putting my foot down. I will no longer feel guilty about any of my “guilty pleasures”. I will relish them with pride. Life is too short to hide the best things in life. And from now on, the only reason I will hide them away in the back of the freezer is just to keep them away from the kid’s prying fingers. The only thing that I have relented to is sharing them with my friends. That makes me a good person, right?
In honour of our newfound, public preaching of our collective guilty pleasures my friends and I have organised a regular night of celebration. Wait, no it’s not quite as exotic or out of control as it sounds. Let me explain: we simply make sure we have a safe haven where all children and partners are evacuated from so we can indulge in our current television pleasures. Ones we might ordinarily receive scorn or derision from our partners for.