I am a Liar.





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?

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