Tuesday, August 2, 2011

My glamorous life.

My life is not filled with red lipstick and scrumptious dinners on the table by 6:00 sharp. It's not bursting at the seams with glamorous walk-in dust-free closets and bi-weekly manicures. My life is not littered with fresh flowers, perfectly styled outfits, trips to Ireland, deep-dish cookies and two hour workouts.
These things all sound nice to me. But most of the time they are not my reality, nor anyone else's. Let's stop kidding ourselves.
Because the dishes in my sink are piled so high they've started to stink--or maybe it's the carpet still a little droopy from getting ripped up after that flood last week. The hair on my head is a little frizzy from a bike helmet; the clothes on my body are a little wrinkled; my nail polish is a little chipped; I'm over it.
We all have to live.
And I think that's just fine.
Not to say that these things aren't fun for me to look at and configure every now and again. Not to say that we should be proud of sloppiness or dirt. But just to say, I choose reality. It really is better.

Oh, and hey really gorgeous girl who keeps posting photos of ridiculously skinny and buff women couched in self-motivation? I feel sad about that. You deserve a cookie. Perhaps I'll make it deep-dish for you.
That's all.

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