It was Sunday, our family day (I have a very strict no one works on a Sunday rule) and I was walking into the fourth grocery store I'd been to in a matter of 30 minutes. OK, I lied, it was the third grocery store because I made a desperate plea at a beer, wine and cigarette carryout about five minutes before. (I think the carryout had bread though, so it could for all intensive purposes, be a 'grocery store.')
In case you live in a state other than Ohio (or for some odd reason your world doesn't revolve around the Buckeye State), we're all in a tizzy because Yuengling (America's oldest brewery) has finally made it's way to us. Draft hit bars on Halloween and bottles were supposed to decorate store shelves on Saturday. So being the
Anyway, so I was walking into Kroger, my fourth and final stop, when I was basically trying to hold back tears because my feet were literally raw. Since we've been enjoying brisk fall weather the last few days, I decided it was time to bust out my favorite faux-leather, super snazzy, slouchy boots. They're crazy cute, but they always give me crazy blisters if I wear them too much before breaking them in again. (Which is basically what I do every.single.time).
But they're too cute not to wear the hell out of, especially since I was rocking my
So despite the fact that I basically lost all the skin on my pinky toes, I have gigantic blisters eating through the balls of my feet, I decided I was not going to be that girl. You know, the one that everyone is thinking "God, why is she wearing those heels, doesn't she know it's don't dress like a hoochie mama Sunday?" Who does she think she's fooling? Well, apparently everyone, because I even had a mom comment on how I could be walking in such high heels without breaking my ankle.
It made me proud.
But then it made me wonder. How much time in a day do we spend faking something? Whether it's protruding confidence for that Mr. Right, pretending to know what the hell you're doing at work or simply convincing you're husband that you're super into his boring sports stories, how much time are we wasting pretending to feel something or be someone we're not?
So I'm challenging you Chubby Vegan Mom friends, to get real. In an effort to hop back on the blogging train (after my 14-day-still-lingering illness left me keyboard stricken) and be less fake, I'm going to dedicate my posts this week to real things happening in my real life.
The rules are simple. Either leave me a comment detailing something in your life that you want to be real about or go all out and write a post of your own about getting real and leave a link to it in my comment. Next Sunday (supposing I have people play along), I'll compile a list of all you fabulous people who were brave enough to "get real" and share it with the rest of my readers.
Feel free to even give that cute little photo in the top right corner of this blog a right-click with your mouse, a "save image as" and then rock it on your blog too, whatever. This will be a lot more fun if we can reach out to more people, so feel free to click that little "tweet" button in the corner and share with your tweeps. The more real we get the more fun we'll have.
I'll start today by coming clean about my "look." Sure, my current Facebook photo has the right balance of sassy, sweet, mysterious and a wee-bit of "she was just caught in the moment looking wistful with that whisk" carelessness to it, but it really took a good 20 photos or more to make me not look like an ogre.
And how about those oh-so-adorable bangs and pig tails I'm rocking? Well, for starters, I do love my bangs, but I don't like washing them every 10 minutes, so they usually end up clipped to the top of my head giving me a weird, spazzy, did she stick her hand in an electric socket look to it. And those pig tails might have a sort of sexy anime look to them, but my long strands are usually pulled into a messy side ponytail that looks more like Punky Brewster gone wrong. And just look at those big blue eyes and my mischievous smirk, it's so quirky yet intriguing, right? Well, fear not, I'm usually rocking an awkward "what's the funny smell look" and I suffer from left-eye-doesn't-open-quite-enough-so-I-wind-up-looking-drunk-itis. Don't worry though friends, at 26, I still rock ribbons, so that pink bow is 100% Chubby Vegan Mom.
So let's hear it ladies, gentlemen, family and friends, what do you want to come clean about?