I have several guilty pleasures. Too many to list here including the PG ones, which is why, well at least one reason why I am observing Lent this year and abstaining from gobbling bread, pasta and rice. A detoxed body is a detoxed soul. At least that’s my thinking voice mantra for the next month plus. Oh wait, I did just write it out loud, didn’t I. It should be noted, this kind of purging, the non-Catholic/quarter Jewish Catholic guilt that persuaded me to turn the other cheek, away from carbs is as shamefully pleasurable as the bad habit I’m kicking to the curb. The irony of being committed. Considering my inability to ingest carbs moderately, there’s no harm in further admitting that there are times aside from during Lent, when I could really tuck into a fat bowl of pasta with meat sauce, sop up the sauce with garlic bread, cleanse my palette with a chocolate biscotti and a glass (or 2) of Merlot. Note, I was smart and didn’t give up the wine…or the biscotti for that matter.
t’s during these times that I can clearly see the links between my more and less virtuous ways. And when I say “these times”, I am referring as much to Mob Wives and Fashion Week as to Sunday afternoon dinner and PMS. Now here in lies a deeper, more complex aspect to many of my guilty pleasures – all things fierce, feminine, food and fashion related. I realize it’s hard to comprehend, but bread, salvation, Staten Island reality TV, Dolce & Gabbana are connected; to each other and me. Salute to a big mangia feast cooked up for a guilty fashionista with a brocade and Good Fellas fetish. Oh, dear did I say “fetish”? Another “F” word. —smarthausfrau
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