I’ve always indulged in my version of “life porn”—you know, those glossy magazines and catalogs that make you feel like your life could be as picture-perfect as a Pottery Barn spread. The arrival of Ikea’s annual idea book is a sacred event; I often cancel plans just to peruse it. Even the Dixieline Lumber circular has fascinated me at times, not to mention that quirky catalog filled with flowy outfits and Buddha-themed decor. But now, here comes Pinterest, a veritable superstore of dreams and inspiration, offering endless ideas for everything from flower arrangements to upcycled dresses and deck designs.
Over the years, this obsession with visual perfection has taught me quite a bit. For instance, I recently learned from Sunset magazine that every camping trip should feature a signature cocktail—preferably one that incorporates craft bourbon you can only get from a quaint little town in Oregon. I had always thought a six-pack of beer was good enough, but I guess I’ve been doing it all wrong!
My understanding of “well-dressed” has also evolved. For years, it meant wearing shoes that matched and making sure my unmentionables were unseen. Now, I’ve been enlightened about the transformative power of footwear—apparently, swapping my round-toe nude flats for pointy-toed ones can create the illusion of longer legs. Thanks for that, ironically named Real Simple! My life has been immeasurably improved by a mere half-centimeter of leg length.
And then there are my freckles, which, after turning 40, have been rebranded as “age spots.” Fortunately, by following a five-step regimen filled with a chemistry lab’s worth of ingredients, I might just achieve a flawless visage. I can only imagine the confusion when people no longer recognize me sans my “age spots,” but hey, it’s important, right?
Without these glossy pages, I’d have remained blissfully ignorant that every device in my house could be harboring germs like a Typhoid Mary lurking in wait. Once I got over the unsettling image of a grad student counting “fecal matter” molecules from toilet flushes, I resolved to dedicate two hours a week to cleaning my electronics instead of indulging in leisurely pursuits like reading or strolling on the beach.
Once upon a time (and I’m slightly embarrassed to admit this), I attended a picnic with a hodgepodge of leftovers from my fridge: half a carton of cherry tomatoes, some tortilla chips, and nearly empty hummus. But after flipping through my life porn, I realized I should have brought pressed vegan banh mi instead! I mean, who wouldn’t want to bring a portable smoker to whip up a West Coast-inspired clambake? Silly me, I settled for an old beach towel to sit on.
The problem lies in the fact that these magazines present such beautiful images, making me yearn for a life filled with perfectly arranged throw pillows, the right shade of lipstick, and trendy ramen trucks. In my weaker moments (like during a second glass of wine), it seems entirely plausible that recreating these meals (homemade pea and mint ravioli with 13 ingredients, but only 30 minutes to prepare!) or wearing those $200 skirts will somehow elevate my life to the ideal it should be. This is particularly true when my son is arguing against showering, and I can smell him over the bean burritos we’ve had three times this week, all while trying to tackle a dining room strewn with 742 back-to-school forms that need filling out.
I dream of being part of that idyllic photo—multiracial friends enjoying smoked duck and sipping grapefruit-rosemary cocktails in a sun-dappled meadow. But is it even realistic? It feels like a Disney fairytale for adults. The truth is, I could achieve that aesthetic if I quit my job, abandoned my hobbies, and booted out the three delightful mess-makers I live with. But I cherish my job, enjoy my hobbies, and love those three humans. So, trying to recreate this Pinterest perfection in the fleeting moments I have left after dealing with reality is utterly exhausting.
I’m attempting to break free from this relentless cycle of life-improvement. Like a good 12-stepper or a practicing Buddhist, I’m starting with the first step: acknowledging the problem. My life porn keeps me on a maddening hamster wheel of doing, wanting, and buying in pursuit of an unattainable ideal, and it doesn’t bring me happiness.
Now I just need to figure out what comes next, but first, let me finish this fire-roasted poblano sauce for the enchiladas I found on that perfect food blog. Baby steps, folks. Baby steps.
This article originally published on Oct. 16, 2011.
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Summary
In this humorous reflection, the author discusses the overwhelming pressure to achieve a Pinterest-perfect life while juggling the demands of parenting. From cocktail recipes for camping trips to the latest shoe trends, the quest for perfection often leads to exhaustion and frustration. Ultimately, the author acknowledges the need to step back from this relentless pursuit and embrace the beauty of imperfection.