We all have our own guilty pleasures, things that we know would be ridiculed to no end even by our own friends. But yes, we still hold onto them anyways because, to some degree, we can’t seem to not like them, despite the world telling us it’s bad.
I’ve been on the laughing end too many times when I tell people about some of my guilty pleasures. I’ve gotten so tired of it and, to be honest, I’ve grown quite a thick skin about it that now I pretty much flaunt my love for my guilty pleasures to the point where they’re really not that guilty anymore. They’re also no longer counted in my mind because I have far too many guilty pleasures to really consider them something I would hide.
The majority of my guilty pleasures consists of extremely childish things. For example, old childhood shows and movies. I can never seem to grow out of my love for "The Wiggles," "The Backyardigans," and most importantly, the "Barbie" movies (second generation only, because third generation "Barbie" films are just awful). And please don’t get me started on "Lazytown." I will get irrationally happy if they’re mentioned. I’ll also proceed to sing all the songs I’ve memorized my heart in an orderly fashion as though I were a radio playing the top 10 hits (of the shows).
I have been told countless times by others that my tastes are too childish. But does that hurt anyone? Yes, I do tend to enjoy watching, reading, singing along to, and dancing to, a lot of things that are viewed as immature and not appropriate for someone at my age. But really, it’s not like such things consume my life. I am not constantly talking about them and more importantly, these interests are not my only interests. They do not define me. They are but a minor part of my life that I like to acknowledge now and then.
And sometimes I don’t understand, because a lot of those who tell me how shameful my guilty pleasures are, have a couple themselves. In fact, everyone has some kind of guilty pleasure. I find it hard to believe that there’s anyone who doesn’t have at least one secret joy or hobby that doesn’t quite have a rational explanation.
Often I would hear a response to a common question, such as, “Why do you like him/her?”, come out as, “Do I need a reason? I just do.” And sometimes that’s enough for us. So why can’t we be satisfied by that same reason in these cases? Sometimes we don’t have a reason for liking what we do. We know rationally that it’s not viewed well, but we still can’t help how we feel.
Let me like what I like. Don’t be ashamed to like what you like. (Unless it’s to an unhealthy degree, because then you need to ease up a bit on the passion there).
