Every single blog I read, the blogger seems to have the perfect life. Perfect husband, perfect job, perfect hobbies, etc.
I’m out of that competition. I’ve always failed at that.
High school: baggy pants, black eyeliner, dirty shirt, and I didn’t give a shit.
College: went to class in my pajamas, stayed up til 3 doing homework, puffy eyes, coffee in hand, dismayed hair.
After: cute but still struggling to ‘keep it together.’
… I’m okay with that. I’ve accepted that my thoughts are an oncoming train, my eyes don’t have the sexy doe look but more the deer caught in headlights, I wake up ten minutes before I have to be in my car, and sometimes, I don’t shower.
My boyfriend and I aren’t the perfect match but we are in love. Infact, I just told him to go fuck himself and he gave me the finger. I sleep with a stuffed animal, I drive a non-green SUV, and very rarely do I even need to wear a bra.
There I said it.
I’m not perfect. I don’t want to be.