Give me all them guilty pleasures

Life is short. Why feel bad about feeling good?

Photo by Ashley Byrd on Unsplash

I have never liked the term “guilty pleasure.” 

Finding pleasure is hard enough. Why ruin the fun by attaching guilt to it?

Doing what you love should make you feel joyful, comforted, delighted, and indulged.

I mean, let’s be honest, is there anything more delicious than curling up on your favorite chair or that extra-comfy corner of the couch with a trashy novel, your latest Netflix binge, or a truly decadent piece of chocolate cake? No. No there is not.

The concept of guilty pleasures hails from much further back in our collective past than you might guess. According to the word nerds at Dictionary.com, the phrase first popped up sometime in the 1700s. Years later, in 1860, it made its first appearance in The New York Times, where it was used to describe a brothel. 

Since then, the term’s meaning has evolved to refer to something a person enjoys, even though they are embarrassed to admit they like it. 

In contemporary usage, a “guilty pleasure” usually refers to some kind of media (genre novel, television series, action movie, fluffy pop song, etc.) that we fear will make us look less intellectual or discerning — something with a low-brow aesthetic that says our tastes are “basic” and which represents a waste of time (and possibly brain cells).

If we really want to get down to brass tacks, the feeling associated with these semi-forbidden activities and media consumption choices is not so much guilt as it is shame.

And shame is a whole different animal. 

Researcher and storyteller Brené Brown has built an entire career on investigating shame. She makes the distinction between guilt and shame by explaining that guilt is a feeling that you’ve done something bad while shame is a feeling that you are something bad.

Oof. That just got a little heavy. 

Of course, Brené is talking about the shame we feel around serious issues like perceived shortcomings related to work performance, body image, or affluence.

The guilty pleasures we’re talking about are much more benign. 

Even so, it’s interesting to think about what deeper shame may lie beneath the surface of our frivolous guilty pleasures.

One of my favorite examples of a guilty pleasure comes from Brett Goldstein’s podcast, Films to Be Buried With. (And, yes, that Brett Goldstein - aka Roy Kent) In each episode Goldstein asks his guest (usually a writer, actor, or comedian) a series of questions about the films that have shaped their life. My favorite of his questions is: “What’s the film that you love, but other people hate?”

For me, the answer is easy (and — yes — embarrassing). I love the 2004 Catwoman movie starring Halle Berry and Sharon Stone. I actually own this movie. 

I posed a more open-ended guilty-pleasure question to some fellow Substack writers in Sarah Fay’s Growth Cohort. Here are a few of their responses: 

• Amy Gabrielle and Trevy Thomas admitted to a Zillow-browsing addiction. 

• Trevy and Chris Stanton copped to loving the show 90-day Fiancé. They even had a side conversation in our chat about the character they most love to hate.

• Tracy Mansolillo confessed to rewatching Ted Lasso every year. (Although, I agree with Nan Tepper that this isn’t anything to feel bad about. In Nan’s words, “I never feel guilty about it. I consider it good self-care.” Damn straight.)

Trevy also shared this quick anecdote, which speaks to why we might feel shame about loving the things we love if they aren’t up to snuff according to the cultural aristocracy. She said,

“I think there's some judgement around TV watching, or trashy book reading, or zoning out behavior in general. I remember being at a party once where some pompous man was talking about someone he knew, and he laughed and said, ‘They watch TV. Can you believe it?’”

Perhaps the question to ask isn’t “What are your guilty pleasures?” 

Maybe the questions we should be asking instead are: 

• Why do I care what other people think?

• Who, exactly, am I trying to impress?

• Why do I assume other people will judge me?

• Why do I assume I’m the only one with guilty pleasures?

• And, again, why do I care?

When it comes to the things we love, it shouldn’t be about impressing other people or avoiding ridicule. It should be about sending up a beacon to other people who love the same things you do (or at least appreciate your love of a thing without judgment, whether they like it or not). 

I cannot tell you how many times in my life I have pretended to like something I didn’t or hidden something I loved in order to “fit in.” I used to refer to this as my chameleon strategy, and almost prided myself on being able to adapt my personality depending on the company I kept. 

That was a terrible mistake. 

Here’s what Brené Brown has to say about “fitting in.” 

I was so shocked to learn in the research that the opposite of belonging is fitting in. Because fitting in is assessing a group of people and thinking, Who do I need to be? What do I need to say? What do I need to wear? How do I need to act?and changing who you are. True belonging never asks us to change who we are. It demands that we be who we are. Because if we fit in because of how we've changed ourselves, that's not belonging.

That's not belonging because you betrayed yourself, for other people, and that's not sustainable. 

Or, if you prefer a visual aide, here’s an excellent one from Jenny Lawson:

Jenny Lawson’s pen-and-ink illustration of a stylized Dachshund dog along with the caption,“Just a reminder that you shouldn’t have to twist yourself into knots in order to fit in.”

Speaking of folks on Substack, I have been consistently delighted by how many writers and readers on this platform embrace their uniqueness and encourage others to do the same. 

Take this note from Jeannine Ouellette of Writing in the Dark:

Or this one from Lauren Powell, quoting her interview on Jana’s Coffee Break Newsletter: 

I’m so glad to be in the company of people who are encouraging others to do things with their whole hearts, even when it feels cringey. There is great power in being true to yourself. And sharing your so-called guilty pleasures with enthusiasm (and without feeling the need to make excuses or otherwise justify them) is an excellent — and relatively risk free — step toward letting your true self shine. 

So, bring on the guilty pleasures. They’re all welcome here.