Do you remember those picture-perfect J. Crew catalogs from the mid-90s? You know, the ones showcasing pristine families dressed to the nines, embracing each other in the grand entrance of a beautifully decorated colonial home during the holidays? The garland hung just right, a kissing ball swaying overhead, and a handmade cornucopia overflowing with glittery fruits on the sideboard? I dreamed of recreating that idyllic scene in my own home.
As I’ve grown older, particularly at the age of 32, it has become painfully clear that crafting is simply not my forte. Pinterest terrifies me, and glossy magazines seem to exist solely to remind me of my lack of artistic skills. So, without further ado, here are my reasons for concluding that I’m definitely not made for crafting.
- Glitter – often referred to as the herpes of the craft world. It gets everywhere and never truly disappears.
- Craft Stores – Places like Hobby Lobby and Michael’s are my personal hell. The aisles feel cramped, the dried flowers make me sneeze, and the checkout lines resemble the wait at a packed amusement park. I once left with four jars of acrylic paint, some cardboard, and glitter stickers for a whopping $129.42. I even tried to ease the experience with a drink beforehand, but that just led to me loudly asking a shopper blocking the wooden stamps to kindly move.
- Hot Glue Guns – A resounding no. The mere thought of using one sends shivers down my spine.
- The Crafting Trap – You know the drill: “Ooh, I love that wreath! I can totally make that!” Fast forward a week, and I’ve spent $312, made four trips to the store, and somehow turned my kitchen island into a disaster zone. My husband usually gets the brunt of my frustration when things go awry, like when our dog ends up with a seashell glued to her backside.
- Martha Stewart – I can’t stand her smug grin on magazine covers, showing me how to make that damn wreath. Sure, she’s talented, but I just can’t with her.
- Kids Wanting to “Help” – This never ends well. It usually results in tiny glass beads scattered across the floor, which our dog eagerly gobbles up, while my child accidentally drops hot glue on her own foot.
- Spray Paint – My patience for covering every surface within a 5-mile radius with plastic is nonexistent. This is partly why my balcony floor has an unfortunate hot pink hue.
And there you have it, dear reader. My dream of a sparkling, beautifully decorated home, akin to a J. Crew catalog, is officially dashed. My husband has wisely pointed out that my time is likely better spent on pursuits I actually enjoy—ones that don’t turn the dining room into a battleground or require a trip to the vet for the dog. And truthfully, I’m okay with that, even if Martha Stewart might not approve.
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In summary, crafting is clearly not my strong suit, and that’s perfectly fine!
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