Unlike my douche-canoe cowriter Emily (Kiss kiss, bb), I happen to care about the color of the bows on the back of the chairs at my reception. Do I think this means I’m forgetting the reasons for marriage? No. I think it means I’m a detail-oriented, maybe-a-little-bit-OCD former art major who relies very heavily on visual perception. And you know what? I’m okay with it. I like that the teacups in my kitchen matter to me even though I don’t drink tea. I’m not sure how I went from wanting to be a hipster painter in a studio in the village to wanting to be Susie Homemaker, but hey! That’s my prerogative.
Have I allowed Pinterest to get the best of me? Yes. I have extensive boards of perfect homes, perfect food, perfect parties, and perfect weddings. Oh and even freakishly well-dressed babies. With these came the delusions that my life should look like this. Of course, I’m Martha freaking Stewart.
This is my confessional.
I paid $32 dollars on Etsy for six yellow teacups that perfectly matched the two yellow teacups that I got for $0.50 at a local thrift shop. WHAT.
I had a temper tantrum about my inability to afford a butter yellow Artisan KitchenAid mixer. I considered buying it even though I don’t yet have furniture.
I get irrationally angry at people who get to plan the details of their wedding, especially those who aren’t paying for them, mostly due to the fact that I’m getting married at a courthouse without a dress or a cake or anything. Eff you, military. That’s not how my Pinterest-perfect wedding was supposed to work.
I get offended by people who don’t like art. Sorry fiancé.
I spent weeks searching for saucers that were perfectly mismatched. Huh?
I plan people’s weddings in my head, down to the tiny details. Unasked. Do I tell them about it? Nope.
I made a handmade ornament for my non-existent Christmas tree. It HAD to be white-on-white. I refused to use other colors. Oh, okay.
I think about what the packaging should look like for the cupcakes I want to sell in the bakery I don’t have.
The amount of time I’ve spent looking at Anthropologie aprons is not okay under any circumstances. Which one is cuter though?
One day I’ll have the money to be Betty Crocker housewife perfection, right? Until then I’ll be over here obsessing and trying to be like Lauren Brimley. Bye haters.