Fast and easy recipes, faster and easier exercises, immaculate homes scrubbed down with all-natural cleansers, long, flowing hair that takes only six seconds to achieve–I CAN’T TAKE IT ANY MORE!

I ignored the initial buzz about Pinterest and actually rejected the first few invitations I received, beckoning me to the world of creative crafts and money-saving techniques. The aforementioned sound lovely enough, but I know myself:  I am easily distracted by bright colors and guarantees of rediscovering my youthful glow with hemp seed oil. And as I work online, it is entirely too easy to stray from a professional task and lose myself in the myriad of envy-inducing photos. Not only has Pinterest ruined my focus on more than one occasion, but I also find that after scouring the place, I’m left feeling…agitated. Agitated that I don’t have the skill to knit winter coats for my family. Agitated that I do not have the desire to trek it an hour to purchase organic-only foods. Before Pinterest, I was naive enough to believe that I had, in fact, turned our house into a home. But then I looked around: I don’t have bookshelf-laden walls! Where is my vintage frame collection that displays the black-and-white photos I snapped of the kids in their picture perfect oblivion?! I HAVEN’T TURNED THAT EMPTY CORNER IN OUR ENTRY WAY INTO A SITTING/STORAGE AREA!!!!!!!!!!!!! Silly, silly me.

You know what I could really use? And it’s not more ideas about recycling pop bottles into watering cans or Easter baskets. I could really use a site that is honest with me. One that lets me know up front that despite accessing photos of ridiculous amazingness, a closet like this just isn’t in the cards for me. My 13 pairs of flip flops will continue to reside in every corner of our home house because, quite frankly, I never know when I’m going to have to throw on a pair to chase after a dog or child who has recently learned to open the screen door. What I don’t need is trillions of photos of these luxurious bedrooms (excuse me, boudoirs) tagged with comments about how the inhabitants have the greatest sex ever and then sleep for a solid 8 hours afterward as a direct result of opting for a Pinterest-inspired passionate bedspread color, complemented by calming colors on their walls. What I NEED is someone to regulate my Pinterest participation because my jealousy morphs into jerkiness and then I pin something like this to my board:

Granted, it takes a lot more than some snazzy outfits and adorable photos to make me really hang my head in defeat, but Pinterest is certainly working my nerves. What’s worse is that I keep going back. I CAN’T STOP!!! I ignore the feelings of longing after I see a beautifully decorated dining room table, poised and ready to host a family of 24. I dismiss the sinking feeling in my stomach after pinning a dozen new Brazilian butt-lifting exercises that I know, even before adding a snarky comment to them, I will never, ever do.

Simply put, Pinterest is my crack. And the only rehab is to slowly ween myself from the simultaneously helpful and maddening suggestions of how to turn a cardboard box into a imagination center for my son. But how? HOW? I ask. After Pinterest, there will just be something else to suck up the minutes of my life and keep me from being productive while the kids nap. And, if I’m being honest here, I secretly love it. I’m an addict who admits having a problem, but doesn’t want to find a cure. And this is why Pinterest can piss off.