I’ve gone and done something I wasn’t going to do.
No, not get a tattoo (which I’ve always wanted). And no, not get a dog (which I’m kind of wanting).
I’ve joined Pinterest.
(Don’t feel bad if you some of you, ahem, older folk don’t know what this is. It’s basically a virtual pinboard you use to bookmark and share things you find on the Internet.)
I didn’t really think Pinterest was for me. In my mind, it was meant for those crafty, artsy, design types. Not us wordy, outfits slapped together, non-matching furniture types.
And so in the last couple of months, whenever I’ve heard about Pinterest, I’ve felt a kind of superiority for not having joined. Like, ha, all you fools who have gotten sucked in. I have so many better things to do with my time, like read Radar Online or obsessively check my Google Analytics.
A few weeks ago, I even laughed while reading Jane Roper’s Babble post, “ 5 Ways Pinterest Makes Me Feel Inadequate.” Like Jane, I’m slovenly. Many days, I revel in being a dirty mommy. And I hate doing crafts with my kids. I’m thrilled they’re past that stage. Even playing the game of Life is torturous. Not my thing. I’d rather go outside with them and throw a baseball around or go for a rollerblade. And my idea of DIY? Just don’t do it.
So why would I want to be a part of a cult something that would make me feel bad? But I guess I’m a masochist. That and a nosy, curious woman who is looking for more ways to peer in to others’ lives and waste time.
I requested my invitation a week ago. Yes, you have to be invited. Maybe that’s part of the allure. And a few days ago, I got my invite. I logged in and started creating my virtual pinboards. The choices to be made. There were so many of them. What kinds of boards to create. What to call them. What should the first couple of pins be. I wanted to come off as funny, smart, not desperate. I wanted my boards to be a true reflection of me.
I was on my computer so long that first day that I felt physically dirty. I ignored my children. (They are 12 and 14 so it’s not like they were crawling around in dirty diapers.) And I ignored my husband and barely ate the wonderful dinner he prepared for me. (Thanks, babe.)
And the first time I saw that someone re-pinned one of my posts or liked something I had pinned on one of my boards I was thrilled. They like me. They really, really like me.
And then I started exploring other people’s boards. Gorgeous pictures of food I might have my husband make for me. Stylish outfits I would love to wear if either I was thinner or had more money. Funny pictures of animals thinking things that I didn’t know mattered to them. These people are so fricking creative.
And the pictures of beautifully designed rooms? Inspirational because I’ve been given the green light to redo our master bedroom. Which is filled with the big, dark, heavy furniture my first husband’s parents bought us as a wedding present in 1995. It’s been 10 years since my divorce. And six years since my second marriage. Time for a change. You think?
(Anybody want a full bedroom set? Queen sleigh bed, dresser, mirror, two nightstands and an armoire that fits an old fashioned TV? Come and get it.)
Now that it’s been a few days, I’ve kind of settled in to it. For me, Pinterest was kind of like that pimple on your chin that begs to be popped because it’s prominent and getting bigger. You hold off for as long as you can then one day, you just can’t stand it anymore. So you pop it. It oozes for a little while. Maybe even bleeds. But the redness subsides and the spot gets absorbed back in to your skin.
My daily early morning toolbar has absorbed the new tab nicely. Don’t you think?
P.S. Come find me at pinterest.com/dewlaps/. I’d love to see what you’re up to.