I Decided Big Sean’s Pop-Up Shop was Urban Street Fashion Gold

Friday, February 3rd Big Sean dropped his fourth album, I Decided. To amp up the release, he simultaneously unveiled I Decided pop-up shops in four cities:

New York – 127 Grand St, New York, NY 10013

Detroit – 1441 Woodward Ave, Detroit, MI 48226

Toronto – 12 Ossington Ave, Toronto ON M6J 2Y7, Canada

Los Angeles – 501 N Fairfax, Los Angeles, CA 90036

The shops were open Friday and Saturday 5PM-11PM and Sunday from 12PM-6PM. Pop-up shops are the new way to stay in the “in crowd” when it comes to urban street fashion. Items at the shops are few and limited, wait times to get in are hours long, prices are well over ten times the cost to create, and when the shops close people race to produce knockoffs to sell online at a fraction of the original cost.

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So are the shops worth it? YES! The products in these stores turn to instant fashion gold. Big Sean’s shop did not disappoint! The experience was like no other but not necessarily in a good way. After two hours of waiting in line on a cool Saturday night, I entered the small shop with the other ten people who were already inside. Yes, that’s right, two hours in line to shop with ten people. The bouncer at the door counts people as they enter and exit the shop allowing only 10-15, of the hundreds waiting in line, in at a time. When I entered I wondered if this is how the Kardashians feel when they go shopping, everyone leaves the store and it is you and your 12 friends. The shop held fours rolling racks with a very limited number of shirts, hoodies, sweats and bomber jackets — one in each size. Two benches of baseball caps and winter hats displayed the I Decided and No Favors headwear for purchase. A giant tree sat in the middle of the room with a white Beats Pill on the ground playing I Decided on repeat. Purple and blue low lights kept the shop dim while a strong aroma of weed filled the room as the employees smoked. When I entered the store, I felt like I was entering his album, his dreams, thoughts, the inner workings of who he is as a rapper. I dig it.

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How it worked is you can go through and decide (hehe) what you want to purchase and in what size. Let one of the staff members know what you would like to order and he or she heads into a back room and comes out with everything you need. You then walk right up to the register, where the weed smoking cashier will check you out, no wait, because there are only nine other people in the store! Check out what was featured at the shop below:

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Jessie Zahner is the owner of Athletchic.com. You can follow her on Instagram (Athletchic) or on Twitter at @Athletchic.

Women Need to Back Fox’s Pitch

Women in baseball. Is it far-fetched? Let’s compare swim caps to ball caps: Katie Ledecky to Ginny Baker.

If a jocular pat on the behind after a good inning (episode one) was all women need overcome to play ball, one of us would be kissing necklaces, counting steps, and spitting sunflower seeds by now. But other hurdles antagonize us.

Athletchic is first to commend—celebrate!—the birth of Ginny Baker into the MLB on Fox’s new Thursday night prime-time show Pitch. Sure, she’s tall, dark, and stunningly beautiful (we are still talking TV here) but she brings with her a plethora of real-life problems that might occur if a woman suited up. And that’s a pretty big if.

If a woman can play ball. Can she? We can’t look at all the angles to that question but let’s look at a blaring few.

Physicality

Pardon the pun but do we have the balls to play? Technically no. Figuratively, yes. Our hearts, lungs and muscles may be smaller, but today science constantly raises the bar. Better training, equipment, and nutrition make us bigger, stronger, faster.

Disagree? I challenge your opinion with two words: Katie Ledecky.

I know. Good as she is, her 3:56:46 in the 400 freestyle still lags 16 seconds behind the men’s record. But hear me out. There are 30 MLB teams (I think you know where I’m going) with rosters of 25 (I could debate that number but don’t need to) for a total of 750 male athletes playing professional ball. So let’s take balls out of the scenario (and at the same time leave them in) and convert those players to swimmers. Teams of 25 swimmers on 30 teams swimming the 400 freestyle and guess who shows up as number 311 on the men’s list at http://www.fina.org/content/swimming-world-ranking right between good old Alex and Eric?

You got it. Our man Katie.

In fact, look further. I hate to be the bearer of bad news to the Archie Bunkers of men’s baseball, but that puts her way above Ginny Baker’s fifth-on-the-roster spot. Hell, a few torn rotator cups of team mates and Ledecky is in the starting line-up.

So move on to a second hurdle.

Punctuality

How’s the timing? Is Prime Time the right hour for a story about a profession female ball player?

Baseball is all about timing. Stepping up to the plate, swinging the bat to meet the pitch perfectly, tagging home plate before the ball slips into the catcher’s mitt. Does Fox earn a run?

Athletchic encourages more women and girls to get behind Ginny Baker. We feel she’s arrived on the mound at just the right time. If you don’t think so, we challenge your opinion with one word. Hillary.

With public audiences drooling over Hill versus Donnie reality TV (oh wait, strike reality), what’s a little girl-meets-boy on-the-pitcher-mound saga? Fox couldn’t have timed this show better if they tried. It seems orchestrated from the upper deck. And if you feel the possibility of having a female president in 2016 doesn’t prove perfect timing then let’s mention Mo’ne Davis. (Athletchic isn’t sure she wasn’t the inspiration behind this story.)

Years ago, a little girl didn’t have the opportunity to play ball like the boys. She grew up on the sidelines tangled in ribbons while boys logged precious minutes, hours, days on the field. Don’t think that doesn’t count. How many families taunting boys with major league potential didn’t pack bags for those snowball prodigies and send them south for winter to spend more time with a girl’s best friend? (Don’t even tell me you didn’t get that.) Time spent in the diamond is everything.

Fox’s Pitch is the story of a girl, Ginny, with a talent, pitching. She has the balls to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the boys and play major league baseball. She’s fifth on the roster, and her feminism may have saved her from a trip back to the minor leagues, but sometimes physicality and punctuality has to be brushed aside and an exception made. Because on this television show, out in the stands, little girls sitting in bleachers have tossed out their Cinderella costumes for Ginny Baker costumes. They wave signs that say “Go Ginny” with thoughts of “it could be me” dancing in their heads.

And out in TV land, little girls sit on couches, wearing Nike sneakers, drinking coke, and responding to their brothers when they say, “that could never happen,” with a hard, cold, determined and strong, “don’t be so sure.”

What could be better than that?

Thanks Fox. Girls? Let’s get behind Ginny Baker and support Pitch.

_____________________________________________________________________________ Cyndie Zahner is a freelance writer. Follow her on Instagram @athletchicz or Twitter @tweetyz.

 

About to Get Married? Here’s What You Should Know.

I married my husband 35 years ago today. It was picture perfect. A bright sun warmed the October air, and orange and red leaves glistened in a light breeze. Our families and friends watched as we travelled up the long Cathedral aisle, hand in hand, as Mr. and Mrs. Jeffrey Zahner.img_2923

A lot has happened since then. We buried our daughter, Jackie, born prematurely. Raised three healthy children. Built a house. Spent time with ailing parents—all four gone now. Met friends. Said goodbye to friends. Ran marathons. Hosted a wedding for our eldest daughter. And shed tears as we watched our three beautiful children move away, one by one, to begin their own stories.  When all was done, we faced each other, alone, and wondered what was next.

We were next. We’d weathered several storms, survived some of life’s hardest challenges, and found ourselves back in that same place—walking hand in hand.

How did we get here? A little bit of luck and lot of craft.

I have some words of advice. Take them with a grain of salt. I’m not a professional. I’m an amateur and still learning. Not sure what it takes to get to 50, but here’s what you need to know to make it to 35:

It will be hard—the whole 35 years.

However hard you think it is going to be—it is harder. Yes you will have good times—great times, but you will have to work toward that marriage every day for the rest of your life. If you don’t believe that, postpone the ceremony and wait until you do.

The honeymoon is over when the honeymoon is over.

Your first year living together will be one of the hardest. It’s not all happiness and wrestling under the covers. It’s compromise and realizing the person you married is human.

You can argue and go to bed mad.

I know. Jeff and I have done it many times.

You can even stay mad for the whole day. Maybe two. But not much longer. Time should soften misunderstandings, disappointments, and anger. Too much time can send you in different directions. Remind yourself you are in this for the long run. Never leave. You can ignore each other, but come home every night.

There are going to be times when you feel like running away. When that time comes, stay. Plan a trip together or even separate trips with friends. A weekend away with your best friends will rejuvenate you as long as you pay attention to my next piece of advice.img_2931

Never cheat on each other.

People are not going to like this, but cheating on your spouse is like signing the divorce papers and tucking them away for the future. Don’t do it. Yes, people make mistakes and there are couples who weather through this storm, but they are rare.

So if the temptation comes, stop, ask yourself if you are truly ready to call it quits.

Hold hands when life is unfair.

Burying our parents was horrid, but burying a child crushed us. Realize we all grieve and mend differently. Be patient with each other and when you are both ready, talk about what you’ve learned from life’s crosses.img_2927

We saw a sibling and his wife face Alzheimer’s and dementia this past year. It put life in perspective for us. We changed. Vacationed. Took weekend trips. Long walks.  We made arrangements to spend more time with our kids, and Jeff encouraged me to retire from my full-time job. I did.

Finally, love each other repeatedly.

You can never say “I love you” too much.

Talk to each other. Dream with each other. And never ever stop playing.

Happy anniversary, Jeff. I’m the luckiest girl in the world. Yes, you still make me mad lots of times—really mad. But then, how bad could it be?  I’m still in love with you after 35 years.

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Cyndie Zahner is a freelance writer. She has been married to the love of her life Jeff Zahner for 35 years.

Follow her on Twitter @Tweetyz or Instagram @ahtletchicz.

Pitch -A Prime Time Series with Pitch-Perfect Timing

Is this concept far-fetched? A woman playing professional baseball?

If you answer yes, then ask yourself what the responses would have been 100 years ago to this question: Is this concept far-fetched? A woman president?

I thank my lucky stars times are changing. I am the mother of three strong children. Two are girls and today those two girls have so much opportunity it would make my grandmother’s head spin.

But I digress, back to baseball.

Pitch is the new “what if?” series on Thursday night. What if a girl made it to the MLB? What if a teammate hit her on the butt after she had a good inning? What if the crowds got behind her just because she was a woman? What if she was named an all-star, not because she was deserving, but because she was the only woman to make it to the major leagues?

Starting to sound familiar? If not, you aren’t a news junkie glued to the presidential election like me.

This prime-time show has been timed perfectly. It isn’t merely about pitching and batting. It’s about women. Struggle. And Life. Its name, two-fold. It pitches the story of female pitcher Ginny Baker and the concept of a woman submerged in a man’s world. Which one of us hasn’t walked that baseline?

As if a girl playing baseball wasn’t a big enough dream, last night producers elected Ginny to the MLB all-star team. Clearly she wasn’t the best candidate—but she was a girl. And girls have dreams. And dreams pay big at the box office. So regardless of how skilled (qualified mind you) she was, the voting crowds of baseball fans checked her name (on the ballot) and Ginny became an all-star.

I’d like to stay out of politics but this is way too tempting. Fiction assimilating reality. Pitch comes at a time when we girls need to dream big.

I listened as Michelle Obama spoke yesterday with the emotion and poise of a woman who knows her place and importance in history. One who doesn’t want our world to take the slightest step backwards for our girls. So she’s encouraging a vote for Hilary. I envisioned she and her girls, later that evening, sitting down to watch all the news reels about the elections and her perfectly executed speech and happening across the silly little drama series of a female pitcher who dared to dream big. I think she’d like it.

I’ll be blunt because I can. I’m not crazy about Hillary. She will never understand my middle-class trials. I hate her hand in Benghazi, cringe about her emails, and worry she’ll open the borders and ask the middle class working souls to pick up the tab. Political analysts will crucify me for this but at 59 years old, I’ll blame this skeptical opinion on my upbringing: The Republican Party protects the rich. The Democratic Party protects the rich and the poor. No matter what promises they make to us, we middle-classers are left standing alone, fending for ourselves.

Case in point: I hear Chelsea Clinton came to my hometown. She flew in and out for a $250 per plate luncheon. Didn’t speak to a soul other than those she was paid to speak to. It saddened me. I’m so proud of Hillary and Chelsea as they trudge down the line, stamping a path to make future travel for women easier. But I can’t help but feel the Clintons think they’re above the rest of us. Too good for us.

Still, I’m voting for Hillary Clinton. Why? Well because I am a woman and the mother of two woman, and the alternative? I can’t possibly go there—take that step (or maybe even a giant leap) backwards.

Hillary may not go down in history as the best president, but she won’t be the worst. Likewise, she may not be the best role model (I’ll never condone staying with a man who has cheated on you countless times) but she won’t be the worst. She’ll take her spot in history, well, because it’s time for this story. Just like it’s time for Ginny to play ball.

I love Pitch. It’s so fictitious, it’s almost real.

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Cyndie Zahner is a freelance writer and faithful fan of Pitch. Follow her on Twitter @Tweetyz and Instagram @athletchicz.

Who is your favorite Modern Family character? What that says about you.

Who’s your favorite? Tell me which Modern Family personality lures you to the TV, and I can tell you more than you want to know about yourself.  If you’re favorite character is:

Joe:        You are cute, endearing, lovable, the apple of your mother’s eye, the favorite child, sweet, and a cuddler. People tend to take care of you.

You are more likely to end up living in your parent’s basement than your siblings. You should marry young. The good looks and lustrously thick mane of your tween years will perish. You will blossom into a bald surfer in a tight wet suit by forty.

Lily:                        You are down to earth, smart, perceptive, blunt, sarcastic, easily annoyed, and curt. You are extremely intelligent but won’t bother yourself with deep thinkers. You continually come to the defense of the underdog. No one dare take advantage of you.

Everything in your life will revolve around how you see other people. When you are done with someone, nothing they say or do will reprieve them. People will fight for your friendship because you are quick to say things others only think. Everyone will fear what you think of them. You will chuckle when people fall down, flash a finger when they give advice, and go to bed if you think a family discussion will ensue. You will have great altruistic moments and help anyone—until they say something stupid.

Luke:                     You are kind, light hearted, easy-going, playful, tolerant, impressionable, unreflective, and barely ever become angry. Clothes, housing, and money don’t matter to you. Only toys matter. You love a good dunce cap—which you believe are NASA designed.

Don’t waste money on an education. You are gullible. You know people roll their eyes behind your back, but you think they’re inferring you’re well rounded. You love to perform because lots of people cheer for your magic act, but secretly they’re just hoping you’ll disappear. You tell dumb jokes, believe spelling bees sting, and think the FBI fights bad Indians.

Manny:                 You are polished, patriotic, old-fashioned, sophisticated, well-bred, eccentric, and an old soul. You dress impeccably and talk eloquently. You love history, reading glasses, caviar, and your mama. Popularity is unimportant to you. You are comfortable in your own skin, a Brioni suit or Prada, and leotards. You believe team spirit is bringing a cow bell to a chess game.

You will always use the proper fork, know the brand names of posh décor, drink tea with your pinky up, and be the butt of nerd jokes. You’ll never win a popularity contest, and your name will never appear on any ballot—ever. You’ll be prone to long walks (alone), depression (from falling short of philosophical goals), and gout (from rich foods). Your mama will always love you.

Alex:                     You are punctual, studious, intelligent, balanced, and a perfectionist. You attract stupid people and are therefore the family matriarch/patriarch by proxy. Sugar is your forename.

Work hard. You are destined to support family members.

Haley:                   You are creative, personable, sexy, attractive, airy, and most often unambitiously employed.  Finding yourself means surfing the web for your picture, drinking sensibly implies sipping latte during class, and staying on the wagon means continuing to pester your parents about a car.

Purchase expensive skin products and stay out of the sun. Your looks are going to be important. Find a superficial job and a sugar momma/daddy.

Mitchell:             You are empathetic, capable, caring, companionly and meticulous. You are always out of sorts. And sports. You have two left feet and believe ribbon dancing is a contact sport.

You’re gay. It’s fine. Get over it.

Cameron:            You are imaginative, colorful, benevolent, challenging, ebullient and dramatic. You have a flare for not knowing what you’re incapable of. Strangers think you’re crazy.

Never wear a clown outfit. People will shoot you. Don’t coach, you’ll get fired. Talk as little as possible, you contradict yourself. Don’t listen to idle gossip, it’s about you. Leave interior decorating to the professionals. It dates you. Never wear pink (self-explanatory).

Gloria:                  You are observant, captivating, passionate, protective, high-strung, combative, and stubborn.     You are attractive but dangerously argumentative. People don’t understand what the hell you are talking about.

You will make great first impressions, but should not stick around long enough for people to form seconds. Acquaintances will hide when they see you coming. Friends won’t answer the door when you ring the doorbell, and your parents may deny you. Your fair face will appear on both NRA and Citizens Against NRA rest-my-case posters. Shoot in the air, stripes weight you.

Jay:                        You are farsighted, sober, outspoken, abrasive, and cantankerous. You avoid talkative people and colonoscopies.

You are very lucky. Quit while you are ahead.

Claire:                   You are intense, energetic, family-oriented, competitive, vivacious, and devious. You believe you are in control and consider yourself a clever practical joker—even when you’re not.

You will have great ambition in life. After much persistence, you will succeed, or semi-succeed, in your career, but “I’m an idiot” sticky notes will always find their way to the back of your suit coat. You will constantly vie for co-worker’s approval but often serve as the butt of their jokes. Halloween and yoga shooting days will not become you. Lying will be your demise. Never run a marathon. You’re competitive nature is Rosie Ruez like.

Phil:                       You are fun, sporting, loyal, curious, sentimental, and as profound as you are trivial. You are afraid of heights, don’t go in the water above your ankles, and think living dangerously is not wearing your seatbelt. You shoot for the stars with a BB gun, wear flannel socks with water shoes, and suffer from cleithrophobia.

You are very ill and probably won’t live to see another day. You believe your mother was a Russian spy and your father, a descendent of Houdini. Most of the time there is someone following you.

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Cyndie Zahner is a freelance writer. She never misses Modern Family. Her favorite character is Gloria. Tell her who you love on Twitter @tweetyz or Instagram @athletchicz.

REALITY RECAP – THE BACHELOR -SEASON 20, EPISODE 5 -#THEBACHELOR

GI Jubilee goes home, Oh-please-leave Olivia gets a rose and the others throw their vulnerability cards on the table.  If you didn’t tune in last night, that’s what you missed.

The drama opens with the girls arriving in Mexico. Oleavia toasts love, insists Ben doesn’t validate the other girls like he does her (huh?), and says she and Ben have a love language. She’s sure she’s getting a one-on-one date, but then has to pout in the corner when I’m-a-mommy Amanda gets the date.

The Put-All-the-Eggs-in-One-Basket, Like, One-on-One Date

Ben pops in on the girls at 4:30 in the morning looking for Amanda. She has 15 minutes to get ready. But unlike many of the other girls, she already looks great. She ventures out with Ben while Oleavia and Kindergarten Lauren say they don’t think she is coming back.

But I’m-a-mommy and Ben take off in a hot air balloon and quickly become acquainted. I’m-a-mommy says she can’t stop smiling. She’s having an amazing day. Ben says he likes being around her. And we all begin to fall in love with Mommy except for two things: her like factor and her déjà vu voice. (Does Ben not hear this?) Like this, like that, like every other word is like because she is like nervous and like we want to stop counting how many times she says like and pay attention to what she is saying, but like, we just can’t. And then, we start thinking she sounds like someone we know, and we realize it is last season’s Whitney and her Is-your-mommy-home voice. We turn down the volume. (Drat! We liked her.)

Ben doesn’t seem to mind. She tells him about her marriage. Her husband cheated on her (vulnerability card). He didn’t want to be in her girl’s lives (bad-daddy card). She was heartbroken, and Athletchic wants so badly to feel bad for her but even with the sound down we still count likes. And (OMG) then Ben starts throwing likes, and we turn the sound completely off.

He gives I’m-a-mommy the rose and we are happy. Really were are. He kisses her (all in), and we turn the volume up, ready for the group date.

This-Is-the-Way-to-a-Man’s-Heart Group Date

GI Jubilee, ImBECCAble Becca, Nojo (can’t take credit for this, my friend’s daughter Olivia—good Olivia—gets credit for both this and the Oleavia tag), Cute Caila, Twin Em, LB, Not-much-air-time Leah, Can’t remember-her Jennifer and Oleavia.

They are off to a classroom to learn Spanish, to the market to buy food and to the kitchen to cook a Mexican meal. They pair up and right off the bad there is a tug between Oleavia and GI Ju for Ben. Oleavia wins and GI walks off with her tail between her legs to partner with LB, but does get in a shoulder shove as she passes Oleavia (rerun it, she does).

Jen and Twin Em pair up. Jen says Em’s palate hasn’t advanced past the kids’ menu. Em wants to punch Oleavia in the mouth and says Ben made a b-line for the mint because Oleavia has bad breath. Oleavia says she and Ben are on a high. In the end, Em and Jennifer get a not so great for their Mexican dish, Caila and Leah get a great, Nojo and Becca get an ok, Ben and Olivia get a not ok, and GI and LB win accolades from the chef.

Ben says he is no longer the bachelor. He’s the spatulor. (Sad.)

On the evening date, Olivia pulls Ben away first (as usual) and brags on camera about her Ben-giddy smile, Ben’s passion and her pitiful self while it’s GI’s turn to pout in the corner. Twin Em interrupts Oleavia’s time with Ben. The others meet with him and Ben ends up kissing all of them, especially LB (can’t take his hands off her). He sends GI Jubilee home.

You got that right. GI went home. Ben said she always pulls away from him. She wasn’t fun today. She says its hard. She pleads for affection. But he wants to be honest. He’s not feeling it anymore. Then he sends her packing and sits down on the stairs and cries.

Back in the room, he barely explains that he sent GI home when Nojo jumps at him for alone time to play the console card. Then she plays her my-boyfriend-dumped-me vulnerability card. Ben says it was hard sending GI home, and that he’s done breaking up with people. Nojo reminds him he has 10 more to go.

Then—sadly—the rose goes to someone that Ben says he has reconnected with, Oleavia, and Athletchic hollers into the TV that he doesn’t know what he is doing. Oh-just-leave Oleavia immediately starts flaunting and taunting her good fortune. She’s not going to rub it in the other girls’ faces, but Ben is hers (rub, rub).

When Athletchic is done gaging in the bathroom, we move on to the next one-on-one.

The Let’s-Design-a-Life-Together One-on-one Date

Ben and Kindergarten Lauren try on clothes at a retail store, then find out that they will be modeling in a fashion show.

They do awesome in the show, and then spend the evening dinner on a roof top. Kinderly brings up his sending Jubilee home and says it was noble of him (careful). Then she throws her my-boyfriend-of-four-years-cheated-on-me vulnerability card out but says on her last birthday she decided she could choose to be happy or to be a victim. She chose to be happy (homerun). Ben said he has seen a new side of her and is more attracted to her. He kisses her, gives her the rose, and they are serenaded by a street harpist—no big concert or romantic dancing–which makes us believe that, maybe, she was supposed to go home but Ben changed his mind.

We go pensively to what we think is going to be the rose ceremony.

The Oh-No-There-Isn’t-Going-to-be-a Rose Ceremony

The girls are scared. It’s over whelming. Oh-just-leave Olivia is relentless. The girls hate her. Ben comes in and the evening goes like this:

Nojo gets alone time and tells him she likes him a lot and does not want to be blindsided. Ben promises her she won’t be, so she knows she’s not going home. They kiss.

LB has time with him and reassures him she cares. They kiss. She’s in.

Oh-just-leave Olivia tells I’m-a-mommy Amanda that she feels like she’s watching an episode of teen mom. Mommy gets offended (rightly). Oleavia apologizes and tries to squeeze out a few tears. Twin Em gets so mad she does the throw-the-other-girl-under-the-bus thing with Oleavia. Ben starts asking the other girls about Oleavia. Mommy throws her under the bus, We-still-don’t-know-who-she-is Jen throws her under the bus, and Twin Em sobs on the phone to her sister Twin Hay, who was dumped by Ben last week, as if she’s going to get some sympathy.

Then, Ben says he wants to talk to Oh-just-leave Oleavia before he passes out roses. All the girls are giddy with hope he’s taking her rose away, but Oleavia redeems herself and then the absolute worst thing happens:

TO BE CONTINUED flashes across the screen, and we realize there isn’t going to be a rose ceremony. Revengefully, we click to watch Vanderpump Rules instead of The Bachelor Live.

Take that, producers, take that.

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Cyndie Zahner is a freelance writer and a hopeless The Bachelor addict. Follow her on Instagram @athletchicz or Twitter @TweetyZ.

Pressed for Time? Want that perfect Khloe Hair? Perfect Job? Perfect Kids? Perfect Dinner?

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.

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Cyndie Zahner is a freelance writer. Follower her on Instagram @athletchicz or Twitter @Tweetyz.