Pinterest: a growing corner of the Internet which entraps minds for hours on end with pictures of elegant wedding gowns, studded DIY shorts and Neapolitan Rice Krispie treats. Pinterest has had positive impacts on Michael’s Craft supply sales and boyfriends’ appetites world-wide, while simultaneously amassing traffic for wedding websites and middle-age-mom-bloggers. But there are other effects, some adverse.
Pinboards create false illusions for women everywhere. For one, you can’t paint your nails to look like they have sprinkles. You just can’t. It’s not possible. The likeliness of Thumbelina being available to do your nails is very slim.
Pinterest makes fiancées believe their own wedding should be as picturesque as the ones featured in Brides or Sposa magazines. Let’s be real, the backdrop of your wedding will not be a sunlit field framed by the Rocky Mountains. It’s going to be a 1970s, Lutheran church with blue carpet, because your mother-in-law won’t let you have an outdoor wedding.
The blog-site also makes me want to cook. It makes me think I’m capable of whipping up a lemon, pan-seared salmon with a crust made out of deliciousness and dill sauce in thirty minutes. Just because we see pictures of beautiful foods on the internet, doesn’t mean we can make them. I’m tired of stressing myself out when my food doesn’t look like it’s on the Food Network.
And all of these workout boards—give me a break! Why does Pinterest insist feeding me pictures of blackberry cheesecake right next to some girl with an airbrushed six pack? What kind of sick joke is that? Pinterest is like girl scouts, a place for crafts, recipes and dresses. Not hardcoreness. And when girls try to make it about hardcoreness, it just becomes stupid and the opposite of hardcore. I don’t care what your 10-minute-ab-workout is. I care about how you made clothes similar to Urban Outfitters for half the price. It’s. That. Simple.
Pinterest, I appreciate what you’re doing. You’ve taught me how to make old t-shirts into dresses, and for that I’m grateful. But stop feeding me lies about easy cinnamon roll recipes and ways to transform my butt by doing five jumping jacks a day. Also, don’t automatically make me follow people from Facebook. It’s weird.
