I think we all knew that Martha would cause me to snap eventually

So what happened was this: I received my April issue of Martha Stewart Living, noted that the cover recipe looked easy and spinach-ish, and was all set to dive in when I got super mega hung-up on the little blurb about the dish.

Guilt-free pizza! It's not just an appealing use of flatbread, it's guilt-free pizza! GUILT-FREE, LADIES. I realize that this phrase is ubiquitous, that books and shows and magazines everywhere have taken up the Lord's work of reminding women in particular that eating should create guilt in your soul because what if you accidentally exceeded the small amount of physical space allotted to you? CAN YOU IMAGINE THE HORROR? The guilt of it all? Who can find a virtuous woman? For her price is far above organic ornamental kale at Whole Foods. She looketh well into the ways of her diet, and eateth not the bread and tomato sauce and cheese of idleness.

And I don't know why this particular asinine condescension was the asinine condescension that broke the camel's back, but HERE WE ARE.


Here are some things about which I feel guilty: the amount of water I use; the amount of food I waste; the amount of trash I produce; the advanced age I had to reach before recognizing my privilege; the fact that I have never earned an income commensurate with my education level; the frequency with which I am willing to offer my children anything they want if they will just stop touching me and go away; the fact that I let a 10-class yoga pass expire with seven classes left on it; my status as a Grade A shirker of unpleasant tasks; a lot of things I said/did in my 20s; a lot of things I have said/done in my 30s; the amount of time I spend watching people organize their drawers on YouTube; the amount of time I spend looking in the mirror; the pathological degree to which I am incapable of keeping in touch with anyone unless they put forth all the effort; the intensity of my introversion; the amount of money I spend on Topo Chico and fancy tea; the fact that I have had so many advantages in life yet anxiously fritter away the vast majority of my time.

Here is a thing about which I do not feel guilty: eating pizza.


All of which is to say, yogurt and spinach on top of flatbread is definitely not pizza.

But it's pretty hilarious to insist to your children that it is.