Your cart is currently empty!
My Obsession with “Life Eye Candy” Must Come to an End in 2017
Jan. 1, 2017
Image Credit: Bloomicon / Shutterstock
I’ve always had a soft spot for my “life eye candy”: glossy magazines like Sunset, the chic pages of Real Simple, and the dreamy Pottery Barn catalog. I would even cancel plans the day Ikea’s annual idea book landed in my mailbox. At various points, even the Dixieline Lumber flyer or that quirky catalog filled with flowy clothes and Buddha-themed decor satisfied my cravings. And now, with Pinterest, I’ve hit the jackpot—a vibrant marketplace of inspiration for everything from flower arrangements to upcycled fashion to deck designs and even pickling recipes.
Over the years, this life eye candy has imparted valuable lessons. For instance, a recent issue of Sunset magazine enlightened me on the necessity of a signature cocktail for camping trips—preferably one featuring artisanal bourbon shipped directly from a tiny Oregon town. I had naively thought that a six-pack of beer chilling in the river was a suitable camping beverage. Clearly, I’ve been schooled.
For most of my life, being “well-dressed” meant that my undergarments were out of sight and my shoes matched. But no longer! Now I’m acutely aware that the round-toe nude ballet flats in my closet make my legs look shorter, and I must replace them with pointy-toed versions. Thank you, ironically-named Real Simple—for showing me that 0.5 extra centimeters of leg length can transform my life.
Then there are my freckles. After turning 40, they underwent a rebranding as “age spots.” Fortunately, with a strict five-step regimen involving a cocktail of ingredients, I can reduce their visibility. It’s likely that no one will recognize me without my “age spots,” but the importance of this transformation cannot be overstated—hence the four-page spread.
Without life eye candy, I might never have realized that every electronic device in my home is a breeding ground for germs. After recovering from the unsettling thought of a grad student measuring “fecal matter” particles released during toilet flushes, I decided to devote two hours each week to cleaning my gadgets instead of indulging in a good book or taking a leisurely stroll.
Once, I embarrassingly showed up to a picnic with a mishmash of leftovers from my fridge—half a carton of cherry tomatoes, some tortilla chips, and a half-eaten tub of hummus. But after some soul-searching through my life eye candy, I knew I needed to up my picnic game. I should’ve brought pressed vegan banh mi, or at least my portable smoker for a clambake on rustic tables illuminated by custom luminaria. Instead, I ended up sitting on an old beach towel.
The images in these publications are so enticing, and I long for my life to mirror that perfection—complete with perfectly arranged throw pillows and the latest trendy lip shade. During my weaker moments (usually after a second glass of wine), I convince myself that creating elaborate meals (like homemade pea and fresh mint ravioli that requires 13 ingredients yet somehow takes only 30 minutes!) or donning outfits that cost $200 will somehow elevate my existence. This desire intensifies when my son argues that he doesn’t need a shower, even though I can smell him over the bean burritos (for the third time this week), all while surrounded by a dining room cluttered with 742 back-to-school forms and a mysterious scattering of Cheerios.
Of course, I dream of stepping into that idyllic scene of a diverse group enjoying smoked duck in a sunlit meadow, sipping cocktails infused with grapefruit and rosemary. Yet, I realize this is merely an illusion—a fairy tale for adults. Sure, I could craft my life to look like that if I abandoned my job, hobbies, and the three messy humans I share my home with, but my job has its perks, I cherish my pastimes, and I’m somewhat fond of those three humans. Plus, attempting to replicate the perfection I see online during the scant free moments left in my day is utterly exhausting.
So, I’m attempting to break free from this relentless pursuit of self-improvement. Like any good 12-stepper, I’m starting by acknowledging the problem: My addiction to life eye candy keeps me spinning on an endless hamster wheel of striving and yearning for unattainable perfection, and it’s not bringing me happiness.
Now, I just need to figure out my next steps, which I’ll contemplate after I finish whipping up that fire-roasted poblano sauce for the enchiladas I discovered on a food blog that looked absolutely perfect for tonight’s guests. Baby steps, folks. Baby steps.
For more insights on navigating the journey of parenthood, check out this post on home insemination. If you’re looking for reliable resources on home insemination, Make a Mom is a great place to start. For additional information on pregnancy-related topics, visit WebMD.
Summary:
In 2017, I realized my obsession with “life eye candy”—magazines and Pinterest—was leading me to an unattainable standard of perfection. While I’ve learned valuable lessons about lifestyle and self-improvement, I’m now striving to break free from the endless cycle of wanting more. Acknowledging the problem is the first step, and I’m ready to take it, one baby step at a time.