Confessions from a not-so-aesthetic lifestyle girly

Forgive me, father, for I have sinned… I keep rushing to buy “aesthetic” home pieces I see online, and half the time they don’t even look good in my space. My bedside table is still lamp-less, the walls are still bare, and don’t even get me started on my Pinterest boards that look way more put-together than I do.

I scroll past people on Instagram, or even see them walking down the street, and it feels like they’ve got it all figured out. Styled outfits. Golden-hour lattes. Workout sets that somehow coordinate with their water bottles. Meanwhile, I’m here telling people our home is “minimalist” when really it’s just… a work in progress.

But here’s the thing: they’re not living a better life than me, they’re just better at romanticising the little things. And maybe that’s all we really need. To stop holding ourselves to Pinterest standards and start finding joy in the imperfect, unfinished, normal version of life.

So if you’ve ever looked around and thought, ugh, mine doesn’t look like that, you’re not alone. You’re just living in the real, unfinished, uncurated version of life. And honestly? That’s where the good stuff actually happens.

So, in the spirit of honesty, here are a few of my own not-so-aesthetic confessions. The little things that don’t make the highlight reel — but definitely make up real life.

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🛠️ confession #1: the unfinished home

Why did no one tell me how hard it would be to style a girl/boy apartment? The biggest reminder that our home isn’t “aesthetic” is the massive empty space where a dining table should be. Three months later, we still can’t agree on one. Add in a missing lamp, bare walls, and a cluttered second room, and it’s clear: my home is still very much a work in progress.

I catch myself overthinking it all the time. If I just had the table, the space would finally feel complete. But then I start browsing and realise how tricky it actually is — everything’s either overpriced or not quite right. So the corner stays empty a little longer, and I laugh it off (awkwardly) by saying "I’m just waiting for the retailers to catch up with my vision."

Because I’m home most of the day, I notice these unfinished bits constantly. And when I’m scrolling, the line between inspiration and comparison blurs fast. But here’s the reminder: you don’t need every shelf styled or every wall filled to feel at home. Home isn’t about perfection; it’s about comfort.

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🧦 confession #2: the wardrobe that isn’t curated

If our home’s a work in progress, then so is my wardrobe. Sure, I own a couple of matching gym sets — but  I’m not a “snatched leggings and matching sports bra” girl. Tight clothes make me feel trapped (ADHD brain says nope), so I just throw on whatever feels the least annoying and call it a day.

When it comes to everyday outfits, I’m a serial outfit repeater. I’ll wear the same comfy combo over and over. Then I’ll see other women wearing the exact same basics, but somehow they look perfectly put together. Suddenly I’m side-eyeing my own wardrobe like, why can’t you do that for me?

Part of me really believes if my wardrobe were more elegant or capsule-y, I’d feel instantly more confident. I even have pieces I don’t wear because I tell myself, “that’s not the right occasion.” Which is ridiculous, because the right occasion could literally just be… Tuesday. Maybe the trick is learning to style what I already own instead of waiting for a “someday.”

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🌤️ confession #3: the imperfect routines

If there’s one thing I actually do have nailed, it’s my slow mornings. I shower, make the bed, open the curtains, grab a protein shake, and curl up in my reading chair with a book for an hour. Snug as a bug under the overhead lamp, it’s probably the most “aesthetic” part of my life.

But the second I move into the rest of the day? Potato mode. I’m in my comfiest clothes, reheating the same cup of coffee for the third time, and trying to win the daily battle with executive dysfunction (shoutout to my dopamine menu for keeping me semi-functional). Most of the time, the commitments I made to myself just get thrown out the window.

What spirals me out is when I see people online making it all look so easy. The matching sets, the colour-coded planners, the meal-prepped lunches in glass containers. Then I look at my own life and overthink. I compare myself to people younger than me who seem to have it all together, and I feel like a failure. I hate admitting that, but it’s true. Most days, I’m just out here hoping my socks match.

Still, part of me knows this is normal. Not every routine has to be aesthetic or productive. Mine will probably always need novelty to work. And maybe that’s just life. Some days it’s cute morning rituals, some days it’s chaos and comfort, and both are okay.

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🪤 confession #4: the comparison trap

The comparison trap doesn’t hit me in just one way — it’s like tiny cuts from a thousand scrolls. The algorithm knows exactly what to serve me: people who look like they’ve got this perfectly aesthetic lifestyle all figured out. And if they don’t? You’d never know, because they still manage to look effortless. Like they live their life on Pinterest.

And that’s when the wheel starts turning. My brain goes straight to: I’m behind. What can I do to propel myself forward? It doesn’t matter that I’m in my last season of my twenties, finally doing what I actually want to do (something I’m deeply grateful for). Gratitude gets drowned out fast when you’re playing catch-up with people younger than you who seem to already be lapping you.

Do I know it’s curated? Of course. But when it’s done so seamlessly, it doesn’t feel curated. It feels like proof that I’m not enough. And I hate that it gets to me, but it does.

I know I’m lucky. Extremely lucky. I get to live life on my terms, pursue what I want, and create space for myself in ways not everyone gets to. It doesn’t look polished or linear, but it’s mine.

And maybe that’s what you need to hear, too: you’re not behind. None of us are. Our lives aren’t meant to look identical, and what we don’t see on someone else’s feed is usually just as messy as our own. We’re all moving at different speeds, on different paths — and that’s okay.

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the finisher

At the end of the day, my walls are bare, my outfits rarely match, my routines fall apart after breakfast, and yes, the algorithm still gets to me. But none of that means I’m behind. It just means I’m living a real life, not a curated one.

So if you’ve ever looked around and thought, ugh, mine doesn’t look like that, here’s your permission slip to breathe. You don’t need to be aesthetic to be enough.

Me? I’ll be over here with my half-finished home, reheated coffee, and socks that may or may not match.

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‍still winging it

^-namesnadia

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