See You Next Tuesday: October 8, 2024
On working out while sick, soup swaps, the "wrong shoe theory," and more.
Today is Amazon’s Prime Big Deal Days.
You’ve likely noticed this celebration of consumerism because every influencer you follow (yours truly included) is sharing her must-have Prime deals to her blog, her social feeds, her Substack, and her e-mail newsletter.
One influencer has a scrupulously edited list of the 67 “best deals” that she couldn’t live without. Another promoted a more reasonable 25 “great finds.” Many ladies are keeping the content fresh, by sharing a new item to their Instagram Stories every 15-minutes.
I failed miserably, recommending just six items. A paltry half-dozen. My shame is immeasurable.
Scrolling through the infinite list of can’t live without it, game changing, life altering products other women are trying to sell me, I noticed something: We’re all selling the same thing, foreign-made fixes for the burdens women usually bear alone.
The clear dry erase board that sticks to the fridge so you can remember to buy berries for the toddler whose hunger is never satiated.
The device that perfectly folds shirts in record time.
The under desk treadmill that lets you multi-task your workday and your workout.
The giant drinking vessels that keep us hydrated.
The espresso machine that will fuel your productivity and costs less than Starbucks.
The whitening trays to bleach those coffee stains and look killer in fall family photos.
The hydrating face mask that makes you look like your powered by sleep instead of caffeine.
And the supplements with questionable ingredients that give you enough energy to make it through the day after the third coffee wears off.
Surviving or thriving, influencers have an affiliate link to cure what ails American women. And maybe that’s the problem.
In a world where were can’t make our partners take on an equal share, ask our employers to be more reasonable, tell our kids’ schools and sports teams to stop putting more on our plate, or make enough time to workout, hydrate or sleep, we can buy s**t that saves us a few minutes here and there, and provides us with the illusion of control and a momentary dopamine rush.
Women are over worked, over stressed, over committed, and over tired, but don’t worry, we have plastic tubs and a label maker so that we can organize all the foreign-made products designed to smooth out life’s rough edges. And when the purchases don't work out, you can buy a thermal printer that makes returning products to Amazon a breeze.
Most days, I don’t have a prayer of accomplishing half of what is on my to-do list. But I will smash the Add to Cart button if a trusted influencer tells me a product can make basic tasks a little bit easier, a little bit faster, or a little bit more enjoyable. My subconscious needs to believe that there’s light at the end of this tunnel, even if my credit card knows it’s attached to an oncoming train.
Women make 85% of all consumer purchases, a staggering $31 trillion in spending each year. We make 93% of all food purchases. By 2028, it’s projected that 75% of all discretionary income will be spent by women.
We are the problem solvers, the facilitators, the nurturers, and the nourishers; we accomplish all of it with an assist from money and two-day delivery. And when the well runs dry, we try to lighten our own burdens using the same salve. Imagine how wealthy we would be if we weren’t expected to do it all. Or how much more appreciative our partners would be if they had some insight into the reason for all these purchases, instead of just complaining about breaking down the cardboard.
All I can do is try to remember that products don’t fix problems. The eye cream may soften, the pen may write smoothly, and that insulated mug may keep my coffee hotter, longer, but they just treat the symptoms.
At least cardboard recycles.