Guilty Pleasures

Chick flicks

Don’t get me wrong, I love Japanese cinema as much as the next girl but for some reason, the love triangle between a samurai, a geisha and a ghost, set in 1386, shot in dark shades of brown, does not help me unwind.

What I need is the familiarity of romantic comedies: no matter the plot, they’re always the same. Guy meets girl in cute way – guy and girl have sequence of utterly adorable  dates and fall in love – guy and girl have sex – something happens pushing guy and girl apart – guy/girl realizes how much life is miserable alone after long deep heart-to-heart with comic sidekick – guy and girl are reunited.
It doesn’t matter whether it’s a prostitute and a businessman, two best friends, an astronaut and an alien, it never changes.

My Top 5 chick flick list:

• Funny Face (can’t go wrong with Audrey Hepburn, Fred Astaire and Paris)
• When Harry Met Sally
• Pretty Woman
• Pretty in Pink
• Mystic Pizza

Chick Lit

Chick flicks that you can carry in your bag; however caution is highly advised when trolling for your next glittery pink book. Most of the published stories are corny cliches of female views on love. Remember, we are looking for corny cliches of female views on love with high doses of sarcasm and intelligent punchlines. With shiny covers.

Top 5 chick lit:

• Bridget Jones’s diary (Helen Fielding)
• Good in Bed (Jennifer Weiner)
• Watermelon (Marian Keyes)
• Shopaholic ties the knot (Sophie Kinsella)
• About a boy (Nick Hornby)

Loud and boisterous wine-fueled gossip nights

It’s cruel to make sarcastic comments about your assistant’s fuchsia stilettos or your ex-boyfriend’s habit of crying while watching Disney classics, bad for the health to gulp down endless bottles of wine and rude to play loud 80s music at 2 am and laugh like a pack of hyenas, waking up the neighbor’s baby. In other words, it’s simply impossible to resist the temptation of a girl’s night.

In fact, they are such fun, that my ex live-in boyfriend sometimes used to crash on my evenings with my friends, claiming he was too tired to go out/all his friends were mysteriously out of town at the same time and join us in our hour-long debate on whether Jennifer Aniston should take Brad Pitt back.
 

Laptop or private karaoke?

More times than I’d like to admit, I open a bottle of wine and make theme-based compilation cds/Itunes lists. One thing leads to another (or if I’m perfectly honest, one glass leads to another) and as the themes grow weirder and weirder so does my urge to stand on the couch, use the remote as a microphone and perform for my faithful audience (i.e a half-empty bottle of wine, a sushi take-away box, my laptop and a coat-hanger). The lyrics get a deep and meaningful (my latest epiphany’s soundtrack was “Not Fair” by Lily Allen), the diva in me comes flying out and I forget I’m dancing alone in my battered jeans; I’m Madonna. 

The only thing I can say in my defense is that I’ve rarely done this in my underwear.
Which isn’t saying much, I realize.

Using pms as an excuse to stuff my face guilt-free

Along with mood swings, depression and dry skin, menopause will also mean the end of my guilt-free-what-harm-can-one-more-muffin-do monthly card. I eat healthy most of the time and only resort to comfort eating in case of irreparable disaster (earthquakes and crisis at work).

However, once a month, I stock up on muffins and chips, load them on a tray, station myself on the couch, place said tray on my belly, and happily munch my distressed hormones away.

Imaginary Shopping

We all indulge in retail therapy as we should. I also indulge in imaginary retail therapy: I browse the Marc Jacobs and Celine websites, groaning and sighing at each gorgeous item, dreaming of the day I’ll be able to buy one of those bags without having to a) save for months or b) decide between the bag or a diet consisting purely of tap water and crackers.