Like everyone else with an Internet connection, I've been poking around on Pinterest some lately, gorging on eye candy and crapping away the hours.
Before Pinterest, I only suspected there were so many perfect people in the world. Now I have proof.
Perfect people living in perfect houses.
Wearing perfect clothes.
Eating perfect food.
Without sacrificing their perfect bodies.
I look at all these pictures--thousands of perfect pictures--and instead of feeling inspired, I just feel like I'm doing it wrong.
Right?
I must be doing it wrong, because my house? And my hair? And my food? And my body? They don't look like that.
And my heart rate starts to increase, and I start clicking and scrolling faster, and faster, and I realize that I'm no longer looking, I'm SHOPPING.
Frantically.
For a life.
Unbeknownst to myself, I am looking at Pinterest to figure out WHICH ONE I WANT. Which hair. Which clothes. Which abs. Which accent pillows. Which existence.
Do I want a pristine white interior? Or something rich and warm, with BEAMS.As if I have to DECIDE.
RIGHT. NOW.
In case the fairies are listening.
You know how much I love the Internet and how inspiring it can be, but this constant stream of gorgeousness isn't working for me at all.
It was one thing when all the Awesome was contained in the pages of magazines like Domino and Vogue. But the Internet has amplified it and multiplied it to a point where I feel like the only woman in the world whose wires are showing.
(Have you noticed this? How the perfect people have lamps and computers and printers that work with no visible wires or cords?)
I want to start a photo sharing site for people with pores. For people with inexpensive cameras and mediocre fashion sense.
We could share poorly lit snapshots with captions like "I totally thought these tights were black when I got dressed this morning" and "Check out this f*cked up rash."
And we could feel less alone.
That is, if anyone would even go there.
Before Pinterest, I only suspected there were so many perfect people in the world. Now I have proof.
Perfect people living in perfect houses.
Wearing perfect clothes.
Eating perfect food.
Without sacrificing their perfect bodies.
I look at all these pictures--thousands of perfect pictures--and instead of feeling inspired, I just feel like I'm doing it wrong.
Right?
I must be doing it wrong, because my house? And my hair? And my food? And my body? They don't look like that.
And my heart rate starts to increase, and I start clicking and scrolling faster, and faster, and I realize that I'm no longer looking, I'm SHOPPING.
Frantically.
For a life.
Unbeknownst to myself, I am looking at Pinterest to figure out WHICH ONE I WANT. Which hair. Which clothes. Which abs. Which accent pillows. Which existence.
Do I want a pristine white interior? Or something rich and warm, with BEAMS.As if I have to DECIDE.
RIGHT. NOW.
In case the fairies are listening.
You know how much I love the Internet and how inspiring it can be, but this constant stream of gorgeousness isn't working for me at all.
It was one thing when all the Awesome was contained in the pages of magazines like Domino and Vogue. But the Internet has amplified it and multiplied it to a point where I feel like the only woman in the world whose wires are showing.
(Have you noticed this? How the perfect people have lamps and computers and printers that work with no visible wires or cords?)
I want to start a photo sharing site for people with pores. For people with inexpensive cameras and mediocre fashion sense.
We could share poorly lit snapshots with captions like "I totally thought these tights were black when I got dressed this morning" and "Check out this f*cked up rash."
And we could feel less alone.
That is, if anyone would even go there.
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