Pinterest... It is like the window shopping for our fantasy lives. You get some actually pretty nifty ideas off of there, but for the most part you are looking up things to do in your life that will never actually be achieved unless you win some form of fairy godmother prize. And it's OK to pretend that your life is a Pinterest perfect fairy-tale where you have a gorgeous home with a fantastic reading nook, you have a gorgeous modelesque husband with adorable children, and are the housewife of the century. Ain't no harm in dreaming a little dream.
Just don't come back from your less than perfect kitchen with a knife after you get off the site.
In my pretend Pinterest world, I have the perfect hair. I have the hairstyle that I want and It comes out in perfect waves after I blow dry it. I can also curl and style it without having to use an entire can of hairspray. Bu more importantly it will be a style that I want and love.
In my pinterest world I would have a perfectly pieced together apartment/condo/house that had the perfect combination of modern and contemporary. My couch would be comfy, I would have a TV that I could easily move, and there would be fresh flowers on my self-constructed pallet coffee table every day. Because I love fresh flowers, and I would brag like crazy if I built my coffee table.
In my Pinterest perfect life, I would be able to wear Leggings without worry of my arse being to big for them. Like my mother always says, spandex is a privilege not a god given right. Along with those leggings would be adorable boots and scarves and accessories. In my Pinterest perfect life I would have the most adorable wardrobe that would make all of my friends green with envy. It would be blog-worthy
If my life were Pinterest perfect, my need to take a nap every day would be understood. And I would have a comfy sunny nook area in my house designated for that purpose. And there would be warm, clean towels to bury myself under… because I fucking love it when there are warm, clean towels to snuggle with.
If my life were Pinterest perfect, I would have ink. Lots and lots and lots of beautiful tattoos would be on my arms, legs, shoulders, collarbone, and any other place full of memories and meaning. And people would accept that ink, not because it is a new social norm, but because they respect me and they know that each piece means something to me.