Do you remember those stylish catalogs from J. Crew back in the mid-’90s? You know, the ones filled with impeccably dressed families, joyfully embracing each other in beautifully decorated homes during the holidays? Everything was picture-perfect, from the garland artfully draped to the lovingly arranged sideboard with a handmade cornucopia of glittery fruits.
I longed to recreate that picturesque holiday scene in my own home. So, as an adult, I dove headfirst into the world of crafting. Spoiler alert: it didn’t go well. At 32, I’ve come to the conclusion that crafting just isn’t my forte. Pinterest gives me anxiety, and every magazine feels like a reminder of my shortcomings. Honestly, I’ve reached a point where I simply don’t care about my lackluster crafting skills. So, here are my reasons for admitting that I’m not cut out for crafting:
- Glitter: The notorious herpes of the crafting world. It never truly goes away.
- Craft stores like Hobby Lobby and Michael’s are my personal nightmares. The aisles are cramped, the faux flowers make me sneeze, and the checkout lines feel like you’re standing in line to enter heaven—if heaven had a thousand people in it. I once spent an outrageous $129.42 on four bottles of acrylic paint, cardboard, and glitter stickers. Cocktails before these expeditions? It only fuels my urge to shout at anyone blocking the wooden stamp section.
- Hot glue guns? Absolutely not. Just saying no.
- Ever had that moment of inspiration? “Ooh, I adore that wreath! I can totally make that!” Yeah, four shopping trips and a whopping $312 later, I’m screaming, “Why did I even think this was a good idea?” My dog now has a seashell glued to her backside, I accidentally sprayed shellac in my eyebrow, and I’ve developed a rash from some Spanish moss. And let me tell you, I’m so exhausted! My husband, who didn’t even want a wreath, is usually the innocent target of my crafting rage.
- Martha Stewart: I can’t stand her smiling face plastered on every magazine cover, giving me tips on how to craft that perfect wreath. I get it, she’s superhuman, but I really can’t deal with her.
- My child’s desire to “help” is a disaster waiting to happen. It always ends with tiny glass beads scattered everywhere, which my dog happily devours, and me yelling at her while my little one drops hot glue on her foot.
- Spray paint? I lack the patience to cover everything within a five-mile radius with plastic sheeting. That’s how I ended up with a hot pink balcony floor.
And there you have it, dear reader. I’ve officially given up on my dreams of achieving that sparkling, sophisticated J.Crew-like home. My husband has gently reminded me that my time is probably better spent doing things I actually enjoy and excel at—activities that don’t turn our dining room table into a disaster zone or require an emergency vet visit for our dog. I’m perfectly okay with this, even if Martha isn’t.
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In summary, crafting may not be for everyone, and that’s perfectly fine. It’s essential to embrace our strengths and find joy in what we do best.