“Men with good manners and Bordeaux on weekends, Rom coms and lattes, long weekends in Nassau, long warm wet kisses that last ’til tomorrow….these are a few of my favourite things!!!”
Bookstores, the used-all-hardwood-flooring type are the equivalent of a soft, warm, blankie for me. I used to love spending time in Eliot’s Bookshop on Yonge during my lunch hours. Most days I wasn’t looking for anything in particular, just a little comfort.
Memoirs of an Addicted Brain, by Neuroscientist Mark Lewis is a book about addicts. You’re an addict right?
Whoa – wait a minute there tiger. Not an addict? No? Think again.
According to Lewis we’re wired for addiction. He begins his exploration of addiction by siting the presence of opioids in mother’s milk. The long and short of it is, we all just want to be loved. We have an innate emptiness about ourselves that needs to be sated. Maybe it’s not heroin, but perhaps a new skirt, a cookie, maybe just another toke? You know, a little pick me up.
Actually, most things that I do, I do because they bring me comfort. I use specific soap certain days to make me feel happy. I take my favourite route back and forth to the office. I keep dark orange chocolate beside my bed. I seek out one special relationship with a big, strong, sexy man who will hold me in their arms….I value my friends, who all, in their own way bring me comfort. I covet Elie Saab and Michael Kors. I carry a purse filled with things like lipstick and hand lotion and my cell phone, all of which I claim I cannot live without.
Bad days often involve a luscious latte of some sort, and maybe even one of those little chocolate cupcakes with peanut butter icing at my favourite Starbucks.
We often look at drug addicts and alcoholics with disdain, or we wonder at times if we’re riding a bit too far on the edge ourselves. Often it’s after my decaf-non-fat-latte-and-sugar-pumped-cupcake that I wonder if I’m just as bad as a crack addict with my need for sweet things. I know I am. Worse even. Because I’m functional.
If I said that we’re all addicts, it’s just a matter of to what degree, would that be cliché? You know, kind of like the cheesy, “We’re all bisexual. It’s just a question of how bisexual are you?”.
By definition, an addict is someone who is physiologically and psychologically addicted to a substance. Is M.A.C. eyeliner a substance? How about Lancome fragrance? What about Jersey Milk Chocolate Bars wedged into marshmallows? Hmmm….?
Most people agree that an addiction is a problem when it starts to impact the lives of those around you. Just ask anyone I’ve spent the night with in close quarters. My very simple, minimalistic beauty routine impacts their counter space. My need for intellectual stimulation ensures a pile of books, magazines and papers that interferes with my cat’s sprawled napping. Oh yah, and boys over 30…I kinda like them too.
I’m addicted to so many things.
What’s your poison?