Ok so my Khloe haircut didn’t turn out so good. It seems nothing does when I am trying to save time, and we women are pressed for time. We’re at the mercy of advertisers. Ever try that Tasty Facebook recipe where basic food materializes into a gourmet meal right before your eyes? I especially hate those Fammercials.
2016 could easily be labelled the year of the shortcuts (in more ways than one). We women want it all—perfect hair, perfect job, perfect kids, perfect dinner. So we jump at any product or idea that promises to save time in order for us to spend more time perfecting our imperfect little world.
My friend, Marie, and I just bought three Dump crockpot recipe books promising to lighten our daily meal-making drudgery. This after I’ve attempted four times to assimilate those quick, little Tasty Facebook cooking videos in my kitchen—to no avail—and cut my hair in the darling Khloe-Kardashian style that was going to be as simple as wash, spray and air dry—not.
It seems I haven’t learned my lesson.
I’m still clinging to the belief that some mad invention is going to swoop down and slow time for me like cryonics did for Ted Williams. Ok, bad example. (And jocks think Reality TV buffs are odd?) The fact of the matter is, there are not enough hours in the day for us to have it all and perfection is an abstract term.
Here’s the truth:
The Perfect Hair…
only exists on a single, enhanced camera frame. Before that embellished frame reaches our eyes, every hair has been brightened, vignetted, superpunched, framed and cropped into exquisiteness. Show more than one frame, and its glamor is lost because the only way to create the illusion of perfect hair, is to immobilize it. Show me a talk show host whose hair tumbles freely, and I’ll show you a network cancelling her show. TV women have to hold every blade in place by stiffening it with a placard hairspray so strong that, if ignited, its blaze could warm Alaska.
I love Khloe Kardashian’s new haircut. But trust me, its deceiving. Those Kocktails-with-Khloe waves are bleached and plastered on, giving women the impression that you have to have the perfect hair to secure:
The Perfect Job…
does not, has not and never will exist. I will convince you of this with two words: Boss. Coworkers.
And want your blood to curl even more? Your boss and coworkers have:
The Perfect Kids…
are on Christmas cards and in picture frames and can’t talk. Once they can, its over; the truth revealed. Behind Johnny’s little smile is a small-town thief thrown in the slammer on spring break for lifting sunglasses from Walmart. Sissy’s secretly dating a man old enough to be her father, and the four-year old still isn’t potty trained.
Think your coworker’s and neighbor’s kids are perfect? Guess again. They’re human. And no human, in over 2,016 years, has been perfect. Which leads me to what I really wanted to talk about:
The Perfect Dinner…
and those damn Fammercials are making me crazy. They’re enticing. They draw you in: make perfect potatoes in five minutes, mickey-mouse pancakes in ten, a fully-cooked Thanksgiving dinner in an hour.
Stop! Please, Mr. Zuckerberg, I beg you. I’m not strong enough to resist those little videos that tantalize our taste buds and then eradicate our egos. I’m impossibly hooked on their time-saving promise yet time-wasting reality.
Countless fammercial meals tossed in the garbage, three books and thirty dollars later, I’m still holding out hope that my Dump and run cook books will help me make the perfect dinner quickly, allowing me to linger longer at my perfect job, while dinner cooks for my perfect kids, and I sit beautifully underneath my perfect hair.
Nope, never going to learn.
Cyndie Zahner is a freelance writer. Follower her on Instagram @athletchicz or Twitter @Tweetyz.