Self-indulgence

There was an item in the New York Post this morning about a new drink called Qream marketed by a "hip hop maestro" named Pharrell Williams.

He says it is aimed at "contemporary women who work hard and want to relax."

Williams certainly has his finger on the pulse of a certain kind of self-indulgence -- the kind which must justify itself.

Why can't Qream just be for "women who are past their prime who would rather get shit-faced than work"? After all, they are more likely to consume the beverage.

A long time ago I dated a woman who felt obliged to justify every drink she had on health grounds. If she had a beer, she would nod her head and declare, "It's got lots of Vitamin B -- good for you."

After a Screwdriver, she would say, "Vitamin C," explaining why she was forcing herself to down it.

While hoisting a Kahlua and milk, she would point out, "Calcium," as if to say, "See what a good girl I am to take my vitamins this way?"

I was always tempted to say, "Then why not just have a Vitamin B tablet/glass of orange juice/glass of milk?" 

Justifying your indulgences is really the ultimate self-indulgence.