For the first time in the history of this column, I am feeling a bit guilty.

This is a girl guilt — the kind you get when you tell your friend not to worry about her bursting belt-buckle and that she hasn’t gained a pound since high school. That’s after she just ordered the bone-in rib-eye steak with extra béarnaise sauce and French fries. At least she ordered a light brew. Though it was 22 ounces and she got three refills.

Girl guilt is different from thinking about your beer buddy’s fiancé or sister in ways only reserved for the set of Jenna Jameson’s new movie. This is something that goes deeper than the Coach hobo bags we carry.

It is when you blow-off your pal who just got dumped on MySpace for a bikini wax appointment that you waited more than a month to get. You are both going to need a drink after to ease the pain, so that situation can be justified — sort of.

It is also when you pretend to enjoy the company of her new beau at parties, cookouts or social gatherings. Though you and your gal pals spend the next week sending e-mails back and forth about how much you detest the man and conveniently leave her name off the receiver’s list. Or it could be when you tell her the blonde highlights, she just paid $150 for, flatter her skin ... yeah if orange is in.

I have finally had it. Enough is enough. I am starting to feel like I am a major contributor to glamorizing cattiness, drunken debauchery and superficial socialites who have nothing to contribute.

I have to admit that anything racy appeals to my senses. I tell dirty jokes in mixed company. I have an extreme potty mouth that would make the Osbourne family blush. I am fascinated with Pete Doherty. Nicole Richie is my idol and I think swigging tequila straight from the bottle is sexy.

My vice is recklessness.

The knot in my stomach is from the guilt I feel about promoting promiscuity. Or it could be left over from the multiple mai tais that had me feeling less-than-chipper in my cubicle the other morning. I knew my problem had magnified after Lindsay Lohan was arrested last week.

Fresh from a stint in rehab, LiLo was out roaming the streets of Los Angeles flaunting her alcohol monitoring ankle bracelet. Less than a month since her release, she was booked for her second DUI and had cocaine on her person — again. Instead of thinking to myself, “Wow, this girl is a mess and needs a serious intervention before she kills someone or herself”; all I could think was “Wow, that is the best mug shot I have ever seen. She looks great as a blonde.”
Guilty as charged. The question is can I be saved? Is there a promiscuous girl anonymous group I can join? If so, sign me up right away.

Should Lowellita change her lifestyle before she ends up like LiLo? E-mail lowellita@lowellsun.com.