Pinterest Makes Me Feel Inadequate

You could say I am a tish addicted to Pinterest. You might have considered a pintervention even. Pinterest is a fine way to click clack around the interwebs while your husband and kids watch the 11th inning of a baseball game. It’s great for putzing when the rest of the family hogs the TV watching “the game.” Sidebar: What the hell is “the game?” Every game is “the game.” I don’t get it. Anyway, are you seeing a theme here?

Pinterest is a combination bulletin board, shopping list, wish list, and eye candy for me. I’ve made several recipes from my board and have even made some holiday wreaths and what-nots. And it must be said that I am not crafty. Try as I might, nothing I make, even from a kit or with solid instructions, looks like it should. Truth be told, my sons’ projects turn out better than mine. I’m a failure with a hot glue gun and can’t manage a thing with grosgrain ribbon. I don’t understand the ooh-aah love for burlap and wouldn’t even know where to find it unless I cut up the sacks that my 20 pounds of Basmati rice comes in. Pinterest is like window shopping for me. I find myself coveting a pair of gorgeous heels that I could never walk in or a bag that costs more than my monthly mortgage payment. I drool over cheesecake recipes and lick my lips when I see some of those cool summer cocktails.

But I’m beginning to wonder if Pinterest is out of my league.

• I don’t understand the fancy manicure craze. I don’t even get regular manicures. What’s the point for anyone who does dishes? And if you don’t do dishes, go away.
  
• I don’t knit, paint, decoupage, or cut cake into 17 layers.
  
• I don’t crochet the knobs of my dresser. Seriously people, it’s a thing.
• I don’t make homemade cleaning supplies, soap, baby food, dandelion wine, mosquito repellent, or dog biscuits (Are you kidding me?! I have a beagle. He will eat mulch.).
• I don’t decorate my laundry room. And what is it about those people on Pinterest whose laundry rooms and mudrooms are nicer than any room in my house?
• I don’t utter the letters D, I, and Y together.
• I don’t need to know 50 different ways to braid hair. For starters, I have sons. And my hair is shorter than theirs.
• I don’t make bows, wedding programs, birthday party invitations, garlands, goody bags, or place cards.
• I don’t have a closet full of knick knacks to create seasonal tablescapes.
• I don’t care about butt busting exercise moves because I know I’ll never do them. Besides, my Recipe board will defeat that endeavor anyway.
• I don’t take photos of my children at twilight to capture their whimsical silhouettes just-so.
• I don’t ever plan on getting a tattoo.
• I don’t do nail art and find it to be an oxymoron.
• I don’t have mason jars in every cupboard.
• I don’t make shadow boxes or dioramas.
• I don’t make anything out of old T-shirts other than rags.
• I don’t want to look like (insert celebrity style here.).
• I don’t pay $425 for a pair of shoes.
• I don’t like chalkboard paint.
• I don’t have an infant or a toddler or a wedding to plan.
• I don’t have room for a tree house, not to mention the tools or skill to build one.
• I don’t want food coloring in everything I bake.
• I don’t have the money or time to travel anywhere that has turquoise water, waterfalls, tiki huts, black sand beaches, or cabana boys.
• I don’t want to release 99 luft balloons by the Eiffel Tower.
  
• I don’t make Gangnum Style bento lunches for my sons. 

See, Pinterest makes me feel inadequate. I think I’m going to stick to reading Craftastrophe and just laugh at other people.