I am a liar. A big, fat liar.
I often smile and nod when someone asks me if I’m ok.
I talk about self acceptance while shopping for anti aging serums.
I am awkward around compliments, because I worry I’m not worthy of it.
I hold in my tummy, every time I pose for a picture.
I pretend to be brave every morning I wake up. Sometimes I even fool myself.
I laugh at all my husband’s jokes, while secretly thinking about how to improve them.
I am happiest in my own head, because I’m fear rejection.
I believe in others sometimes, more than I believe in myself.
Oh, I cooked it from “scratch”. At least that’s what I say at big family dinners.
I love social media. I hate social media. I’m terrified by social media.
“Love you best, kiddo,”, I promise, and then go hug the “current” favorite child.
I promise to meet for coffee, then sometimes cancel last minute. Thank you, Social Anxiety.
I cheat on diets then “forget” to check my weight.
I smile inside when that cute guy on the road looks at me a second time.
I steal ice cream and candy from the kids and then lecture them about healthy eating.
I do a hundred boring things. But those pictures don’t make it to Facebook.
I empower others but struggle with crippling self doubt.
Every single one of those ‘lies/bad things’ make me who I am. Deeply flawed and irritatingly imperfect. Human, even.
I stare at the mirror, deep into my soul. I realize how proud and happy I look.
I may be a liar. A big, fat liar.
But at least I am Real. And I wouldn’t change that for the world.
So how about you? Are you real too?