Let’s talk about guilt. Guilty consciences. Guilty pleasures. You know what I’m talking about.
I have several guilty pleasures.
Eating raw cookie dough.
Flirting with guys entirely too young for me.
Last June I wrote about how much I love summer.
Now, it’s officially spring, and for me, spring means guilt.
Why guilt? Because summer – less clothing, bathing suit season – is right around the corner. And, in the South, summer comes early.
And, when summer comes early, I have less time to shed my winter weight (read: pounds I gained living in the frozen tundra and drinking beer for 10 years).
I sweat at the gym to look better naked. There. I said it. That’s the only reason I work out.
Well. Ok. Another reason is so I can drink bourbon and eat cake.
Alright, and so that the hot young bartender du jour will flirt back (pretend he’s NOT in it for the tips).
Which brings me back to flirting with boys entirely too young for me. Most days I do not feel guilty for that… but sometimes I do. Not because I’m flirting with the poor kid, but because I want tear into him like he’s never experienced. Many times.
Is that wrong? Is it wrong to be a woman of a certain age, with certain appetites?
Is it wrong to want to devour someone WAY too young for me, when I live in an area where the men my age want women half their age? I mean, I’m seeing that I’m at an age where men my own age don’t look at me twice. Who does? Men significantly older and signifcantly younger than I am. I’ve already gone older. Hell, I’ve already gone younger. And, the truth is, I prefer younger over older.
No. No, I don’t think it is wrong. And, I’d bet the twenty-something hotties would agree.
But, still, I find myself looking at these guys like they’re a steak…and the only reason that makes me feel guilty is because I don’t (always) like it when I’m looked at like a steak…
So, I go to the gym. And sweat. A lot. And I work off my guilt (and my frustrations – this is the Blog of Honesty) an hour at a time. Sometimes it works,
Sometimes it doesn’t.
When it doesn’t, I eat. But then, I feel guilty about that too, because I just spent an hour sweating at the gym so that I would look better naked (yes, guys, this is what we think about. Sex, looking good naked, and food. Did you think you had a corner on the market?).
When I’m stressed and hungry I want pasta. Ice cream. Red wine. Cake. Doughnuts.
So, instead of doing a major face plant in a giant bowl of pasta, I am now addicted to zucchini pasta.
Well. Ok. It’s not really pasta. It’s really cooked zucchini and yellow squash drowned in garlic and pasta sauce, but lemme tell you, it’s effing good. And, it hits the spot, sans guilt.
I bought a mandolin to aid in the preparation of my zucchini. I do not recommend trying to julienne zucchini and yellow squash with a mandolin. Instead, on take two, I sliced zucchini and yellow squash very, very thinly, and sautéed it in olive oil and garlic paste (you know, the stuff that comes in a tube – I love it. Yes, it’s cheating. I refuse to feel guilty about that, though).
So, sauté your zucchini until it’s cooked, have it with the sauce of your choice and a little Romano, and let it slide down your throat like you would the real thing.
What? I’m talking about pasta, you dirty bugger.
I can’t get enough of it (the zucchini), it certainly fills the pasta void when I’m trying to get over my guilt, look good naked, and fit into my new purple bikini.
Oh…and flirt with the hot boys behind the bar until they squirm.