Susan's Addiction, As Seen on TV

I usually turn on the television when I’m eating. It doesn’t particularly matter what’s playing—it’s merely something to gaze at while I eat my breakfast, my snack, whatever. It’s a benign enough habit—until I run into an infomercial.

I’ve always considered myself a level-headed woman. But put me in front of a half hour program designed to sell me something I have absolutely no need of and I turn into a brainless idiot (a redundancy, I know—but fitting).

I’m the demographic for which infomercials are designed. I don’t know what it is about them, but I always think everything is essential, especially if makeup is involved. Whenever the soulmate catches me at it he says, in his best cop voice: “Step away from the phone and hand me that remote, nice and slow. Now, lady! Step. Away. From. The. Phone.” Then he switches the channel to golf.

It brings me down every time.

My rehabilitation is avoiding infomercials entirely. If I do come across one while channel surfing, I just keep on going. And if I can’t quite make my thumb hit those channel buttons, I force myself to analyze the product objectively. (And ooh, does that hurt, not being the analytical sort) You are not going to look like that 30 year old model with her perfect skin, I warn myself sternly. Your thighs will not look like Suzanne Sommers'. And if your high end blender gets bogged down making smoothies, what do you think the chances are that little bullet shaped thingie is going to whip up a perfect one without the usual glitches? So, I’m definitely getting better. I’ve identified my compulsion and am taking steps to avoid situations where I can indulge it.

But I’m telling ya. . .it’s one day at a time.

How about you? Any guilty pleasures that you know aren’t good for you, but you indulge anyhow? Come, on. Fess up. You can tell Mother Susan.