Like I am actually all peppy and excited about stuff that is annoying.
And, let me tell you, I am NOT.
Which is why I am trying to change that part of me: the whining, complaining, angry-at-everything part of me. It is why I have challenged myself to write down 1,000 things I am grateful for in 2014. Sometimes I think it is helping. Sometimes, not so much.
But I wanted to be clear: I AM NOT THAT SWEET.
Here in Internetland, there is much fantasy. Not as much reality. I saw a commercial tonight where a mom is away on business and Skyping with her husband and kids back home. They are all like, "yup, we're good. Totally took baths and ate dinner" with a spotless backdrop. She says goodnight, screen goes dark, and then we see the full pan of the filthy spaghetti-slung nasty kitchen: but they had wiped one square of the wall clean.
THAT is what Instagram is. And Facebook. And pretty much everything that we want to project to others even in "real" life.
And it is totally ok. It is ok to be proud of the one clean room in your house, fo sho. It is also ok to admit that the other nasty dirty rooms are stressing you out. Or your functioning brain cells vs. your non-funcioning ones. Or your career vs. your mommy guilt. Or a multitude of other things that are shiny on one side and corroded on the other.
It. Is. OK.
Lest you believe that I have no dirty/stressful/non-functioning/guilt/corroded parts, I have an embarrassing story to share...
It all began the day before my dear friend was to get married.
(to protect the innocent, all names have been changed)
We are all checked in to this adorably newly decorated Inn. My husband & I get dressed for the rehearsal, and walk out into the beautifully lit by the late afternoon sun lobby. I introduce myself to another couple that is there, along with some I've already met. Then my husband says, "can I see you in the room for a second".
awkward.
He then lets me know that my dress is completely see-through. CRAP! What the heck do I do? I have no slip, no other undergarment options at all.
"Use mine", he says.
"I've been wearing them all day."
awkward.
But I do. His saggy man-boxer-brief-shorts style chonies.
Under my silk dress.
Here I am just laughing away during the hotel happy hour with the Bride-to-be.
"Oh, hahaha" Yes, I am sooo relaxed.
(IS EVERYONE LOOKING AT MY BUTT?)
Later, waiting outside the church. I am trying to hide in the back.
Because, IS EVERYONE LOOKING AT MY BUTT?
Of course, during the rehearsal, I practice walking down the aisle.
SEVERAL TIMES.
(IS EVERYONE LOOKING AT MY BUTT?)
And, check out the static cling on that flipping dress! What. The. HECK.
All night, I was tugging, shuffling, moving out of eyesight as best as possible. Readjusting the suuuuper uncomfortable man underwear with certain bulging parts construction, you know. Steve Erkel style was my waistband. Somehow my butt was trying to eat the back of the dress all night.
So..
Embarassing..
My only consolation is that I'm sure that no one was looking at my butt. They were looking at the beautifully blushing bride, handsome groom, and practicing diligently walking down the aisle themselves. Totally not my butt.
RIGHT?!
Please say right,
Stacey
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