I’ve read this article and I know I’m not writing about anything new here, but the other day my sister said, out loud, “I think about her… like a lot,” about this blog. My sister wasn’t talking about real movers and shakers like Hillary Clinton or Michelle Obama or Shiloh Pitt. She was talking about some lady on the internet who has an attractive family, a computer, and an upper-middle class tax bracket.
But Kaitlin, you’re so right. I think about her (and the rest of them) a lot too. I wonder if my blog makes no money for me because I haven’t grown a perfect bump under a size 6! Madewell dress, pooped it out, and then slid back into my typical size 2, all while documenting it with my National Geographic camera, and graciously pretending I eat hamburgers and pastry at each meal. Because apparently that shit sells.
And I have totally bought it.
I really can’t figure out my obsession with these people. It would be easier to feel bitter because they don’t have to work and they (seemingly) just wear cute outfits and write about the cute things their cute offspring did in their Apartment Therapy-documented nurseries, but I don’t feel bitter. I feel like they need to post more, because I’m pressing my face against their windows and I don’t want to leave a smudge.
I also don’t get how they all know each other, and not just from the internet, but like, IRL. They meet up at Alt Summit and Blogher and at someone’s husbands dad’s ranch in Provo and Instagram every fun DIY-ed headband, every $30 cloth diaper, every mocktail. They’re like this sunshiney Mormon mafia parading around large East Coast cities and Joseph Smith-sanctioned historic landmarks, spreading their gospel of putting suspenders on babies and wearing bright red lipstick to the market.
Their success is such a strange one…but if I could get away with their ad prices, I might say yes to tithing to Latter Day Saints and get pregnant on purpose, too.