Remember those glossy catalogs from the ’90s showcasing picture-perfect families in idyllic settings, like the J. Crew holiday editions? You know the ones: families smiling with radiant decor, garlands hung just right, and tables adorned with handmade, glittery cornucopias. I longed to recreate that vision in my own home.
But as I reached my 32nd year, reality hit me hard—crafting is just not my forte. Pinterest terrifies me, and glossy magazines seem to exist solely to mock my lack of artistic talent. I’ve come to the conclusion that I simply no longer have the energy to care about my woeful crafting skills. So here’s why I’m definitely not made for crafting:
- Glitter: The herpes of the crafting world. Once it’s in your life, it never leaves.
- Craft Stores like Hobby Lobby and Michael’s: Narrow aisles, dusty faux flowers, slow-moving shoppers, and checkout lines that feel like waiting in a line for the Pearly Gates. Why did I just spend $129.42 on four acrylic paints, some cardboard, and glitter stickers? I tried to enjoy a drink before going once, but it only made me more vocal about the lady blocking the entire stamp section.
- Hot glue guns: No, thank you. Just no.
- Ever found yourself saying, “That wreath looks amazing! I can totally make it!”? In my house, that leads to four trips to the store and $312 later, I’m left wondering why I even thought this would work. The dog has seashells glued to her rear, I accidentally sprayed shellac in my eyebrow, and my love for crafting has turned into a loud, tearful rant directed at my husband who never wanted a wreath in the first place.
- Martha Stewart: I can’t stand her overly cheerful face on magazine covers, telling me how to make that impossible wreath. I know she’s a crafting goddess, but I can’t help but resent her.
- My child wants to “help.” This typically results in tiny beads all over the floor, which the dog instantly devours, and my kid dropping hot glue on her foot. It’s never a good idea.
- Spray paint: I lack the patience to cover everything within a five-mile radius with plastic. That’s why my balcony is now a vibrant hot pink.
And there you have it, dear reader. My dreams of transforming my home into a J. Crew catalog have been dashed, thanks in part to my wonderful husband who pointed out that my time might be better spent on activities I actually enjoy. After all, those don’t turn the dining room into a disaster zone or require a vet visit for the dog.
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Summary: Crafting isn’t for me. From glitters and hot glue guns to the chaos of a little helper, I’ve learned that my strengths lie elsewhere. Embracing that has freed me to enjoy my time without the stress of unrealistic crafting goals.