I don’t have a thigh gap. My thighs have touched for as long as I can remember.
I messed up my eyebrows so bad in middle school that I have no hair there and drew them on for years until I eventually got them microbladed.
I shave my face and the hair on my toes.
I never wear shorts because I have thunder thighs and giant calluses on my knees and ankles from sitting cross-cross applesauce for the last eight years.
I used to want to be a professional soccer player, went to college to play, then stopped because the only thing I wanted to play with was boys.
I dye my hair when I’m feeling stressed and stuck.
I suck at arguing. I get frazzled and sound like a bumbling airhead.
I have anxiety, but I manage it without help. It’s not crippling, just a nusance.
I talk to God every week, but I haven’t been to church in years.
I feel like I don’t financially contribute enough to my family.
I have a dual-degree in criminology and psychology, but the only misbehaving crazies I interact with are those I birthed.
I went to law school and dropped out after a semester.
I can be super impatient and I’m rarely “in the moment.”
I yell. A lot.
I’m super-insecure, but present like I’m not.
I’m trying hard to figure out who exactly I am, but I’m not quite there yet.
But you wouldn’t guess all of that from this picture would you?
A picture may be worth a thousand words, but a thousand authentic words tell you so much more.