I love social media. Love, love, love it. But we often get caught up in capturing the perfect moments perfectly. You know, taking 47 selfies to post the one where you’re all Hey y’all, look! no filter! Or amazing photos of the organic, paleo, gluten free, healthy meal expertly plated and enjoyed by the whole family. The one you destroyed your kitchen and quite possibly marriage to make, but we leave out that detail because judgement.
So I’m here to tell you ladies, because I really believe this is more inherently a woman trait, that it’s OK to be imperfect, sloppy, unkempt and messy. That I ain’t hatin’ on ya for eating the pre-dinner hamburger you picked up from McDonalds on your way home. Or the post dinner burger for that matter. Or the 3 burgers FOR dinner. Lets be real, there’s not much better than a McDonalds hamburger with their warm ketchup and dehydrated onion flakes. With a swirl of mustard tinting the ketchup a gorgeous shade of orange. Extra pickles, extra good.
I’m also here to tell you that I don’t have it all together, not even close. I have on more than one occasion ran out to Walmart at 10 o’clock on a Tuesday to buy a 3-pack of too large underwear all to avoid doing laundry for 3 more days. I’ve worn bathing suit bottoms in lieu of underwear, and I’ve also become painfully aware the closer it gets to laundry day, the higher the waist band on the gitch gets.
I’ve let the dishes sit so long, that I had no choice but to use Tupperware and wooden spoons as eating utensils. I often eat right out of the pot with a ladle so as not to create more dishes. I left a milk carton to spoil for so long in the fridge, it eventually just took itself to the curb.
I shop with intentions of cooking, and spoil an embarrassing amount of food. I dust only where you can see, and most likely only if someone is coming by to see. I have been known to hide the unwashed dishes in the oven, and overflowing laundry in the tub pulling the shower curtain closed in the hopes I can fool company into thinking I’m orderly.
Dry shampoo is the best invention since sliced bread.
I have a queen sized bed, and for 3 weeks, I slept on the couch, and then finally moved the laundry over enough to allow me enough space for a toddler to sleep, rather than put the clothes away. The rule became I can only wear it if it’s clean on my bed.
This was my dinner the other night, when I literally ran out of shucks to give
Froot Loops. In bed. In a pyrex measuring cup, because lets face it. We can’t all be pinterest worthy all the time, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.