The truth is I am SICK, SICK, SICK of people feeling all alone because they think everyone else is less screwed up than them. It’s ridiculous. We all have our times we are flying high and our times we are doing a nose dive. Why do we all pretend? It’s all a pack of lies wrapped in a bunch of arrogance. So I am going to give it my best shot and TRY to get real on this blog. This is a get real zone. No bull allowed.
I love it! Alright, I’m taking the challenge. For your Schaudenfraude pleasure, here is me, getting real:
I am online entirely too much, blogging or reading other people’s blogs. I’m often sitting in front of the tv while I’m blogging. I hate this image of myself.
I do the “stuff and hide”. If someone is coming over, I frantically hide messes in drawers, closets, and corners to try and pretend like I live a clutter-free existence.
If I found a Skittle on the floor of my car from a few weeks ago, I would probably eat it.
I am a horrible pastor’s wife. I used to see Mark get approached for help, or prayer, or just a chat from a well-meaning congregant, and I would keep walking and pretend I didn’t know him. I have done this at church and in Target on a number of occasions.
When I go running, I listen to music that is very naughty. I know it is inappropriate, and yet I find it helps me run faster. If someone knows the Christian equivalent to Rage Against the Machine, Snoop Dog, or Jay-Z, I am all ears. (and if you mention Audio Adrenaline or DC Talk you are permanantly banned from my blog).
I often wear the same outfit several days in a row, if it has no visible stains and I’ve deduced that I won’t see the same people that I saw the day before.
I don’t wear socks. EVER. It makes my shoes smell really bad.
Mark criticized the way I folded his clothes in 1997. I have never done his laundry since.
I am terrible at budgeting. Mark and I are great with the macro-finances (investing, no credit cards, etc) but horrible at the micro-finances. At any given time, I have no idea what is in our bank account. I don’t balance my checkbook and we are usually dipping into our overdraft protection.
I pretend to be philisophically opposed to homeschooling, but in truth, I think it’s probably a good thing. I just don’t want to do it.
I would be truly happy to have 25-30% less time with my children, and look forward to the day when they go to kindergarten and I get some solo time back. I often feel guilty because we tried so hard to have children, only to feel like we want a break from them.
I get drained being around people. I hate this about myself. I am an introvert desperately trying to be an extrovert.
I wear heeled shoes that really hurt my feet, because they make my short legs look longer. I am frequently in pain due to my shoes.
Every 28 days, on the dot, I have a meltdown about my son’s energy level and whine about how demanding and hard he is. My husband pointed out this embarrassing product of my PMS.
If I didn’t pay Rosie to clean my house once a week, I think I would be living in filth.
Sometimes I think I continue working just so I can have something that forces me to wear “grown-up clothes” twice a week.
I do about a gazillion things as a mom that I judged other people for doing before I had kids.
Every time I watch a broadway show, I regret not pursuing musical theater. I still get audition notices and keep my headshot updated, as if I’m gonna get back in the game at any minute. Right.
I am crazy about my dental hygiene. I have left events early because there was something stuck in my teeth and I needed to go home and floss.
I refuse to get a minivan because I think it will make me look lame. Yeah, I am really that shallow.