Women are complicated creatures. We have desires, urges and impulses we can't always explain. We hide our secret obsessions and try to rationalize unnecessary purchases, but sometimes there's really just no explanation.
We like what we like and we're tired of trying to figure out why. Some things, like bad TV and Pumpkin Spice Lattes, just run in our blood.
We can't always ignore the pulsing desire we have when we pass a silk robe or a man on a motorcycle. We can't stop the quick breaths that come with passing a good man bun or a dog in a stroller. We're like moths to a $40 Anthropologie flame.
Some brands, like Free People, Urban Outfitters and Starbucks, have figured out exactly what make women tick. They know what we can't refuse and all those tiny things that will always catch our eye.
It's a sick, cruel world we live in when companies will dangle lace panties and floppy hats, knowing full well that women will rationalize spending hundreds of dollars for them.
We don’t know why, but there’s something about a man who knows how to sh*t all over us that really gets us going.
We know they’re over. We know the same way we know flower crowns are over, but the idea of them is just too good to give up. Outside of Woodstock, however, their coolness just flops alongside Mick Jagger’s face.
What is it about grain and flour that make us want to give up all our ambitions? What is it about dough, mozzarella and marinara sauce that make us believe no weight goal is ever worth it?
We know what “Blurred Lines” is about and, yes, it makes us want to find Robin Thicke and blow his d*ck off. But no, we don’t know why we can’t stop singing it.
I know it's just espresso and milk. I know that adding a splash of vanilla syrup is probably the equivalent of 2 cents, and I’m paying 20 times the amount it would cost to make it myself. But do you mind grabbing me a venti soy vanilla latte?
It’s going to come off before he gets the chance to see it, but we want to spend a week’s paycheck on it anyway.
They suck to pee in and the majority of women wearing them are busty 17-year-olds at Coachella, but there’s just something about them we're drawn to.
You can’t put a price on happiness, but if you could, I’m confident in saying a $27 candle from Anthropologie is worth the investment. How many hours does that thing get? Twelve. Yep, worth it.
We used to be ashamed, but we're not anymore. We refuse to hide the pleasure we derive from 40-something women with too much plastic surgery and deep-rooted insecurities from their high school years. It’s just good, and like black licorice and “Spring Breakers,” we don’t know why.
We know the facial is not worth $150, but for the sake of cucumber eyelids and mud exfoliations, let’s just say it’s mind over matter.
Like the public restrooms we hate to use, women are designed to be attracted to lines. We don’t know why or when it happened, but someone started a line in front of a cupcake shop one day and now miniature cakes with cute frosting is just another thing we can’t not stand in line for.
They're overpriced leggings that show our asses. Give us a mini cupcakes and venti chai latte and we’re good to go.
It's just the new video game for 20 somethings... Also called the game of sex and rejection.
Chai Tea Latte
It’s like fall in a cup, or a perfectly-scented candle that we can pour into our mouths.
Juice with champagne
It's how the classy get away with being drunk in the morning.
We hate her, we hate her husband and we're trying not to hate her baby. We hate everything she represents and, while most refuse to admit it, we hate her for her ass. Yet why can’t we stop Googling her?
French fries, mashed potatoes and just about any unhealthy starch can be justified if it's been cooked in not just oil, but the illustrious and exotic truffle oil. It's just bad manners to refuse something so decadent.
Men with sleeves
You know what they say. The longer the sleeve, the bigger the...
Yes, they are rarely ever at the perfect temperature and we understand that we're sitting in a pool of our own filth, but it may just be the only thing we're willing to wrinkle for.
If he's going to dump me, I at least want to hear it with a sexy accent.
If we can't run, we're going to walk. And there's nothing that will get our heart rate up more than good gossip... Even if we end up looking like our mothers without the 5-pound weights and 80s track suits.
Like "The Real Housewives," we love their arrival, but hate everything about them.
Photo Courtesy: We Heart It