Pin It (I'm still working on answering email and some of the comments from the parenting post. Some of them made me cry - in a good way - and so I haven't answered them yet. Thank you so much - I got some really helpful ideas and feel like I'm more able to help her than I was just a couple of days ago. How awesome is that?)
I was twittering back and forth with someone the other day about the thing on Saturday and she said she wasn't coming because she was afraid she wouldn't fit in.
You know, because we're all so cool and together, whereas she felt relatively average.
(Commence snorting on my side of the screen.).
If you've been reading my blog for longer than five seconds, you know that I am 1) not fashionable, 2) awkwardly awkward, and 3) ridiculous.
But in case you are a new reader, I present you with:
THE EVIDENCE OF MY GLAMOROUS, GLAMOROUS LIFE:
COME, let me show you around.
Here is the kitchen/dining room, in the house that we repeatedly nearly lose to foreclosure when I repeatedly lose my business/income/clients only to repeatedly barely sort of almost pull back out of our financial tail-spin, usually just-in-the-nick-of-time. (It is a very exciting way to live, trust me.) This is the normal state of it, crumbs on the kitchen table, dishes in the sink, papers stacked up willy-nilly. WILLY-NILLY, I say.
This is the bathroom doorway where I hang my baby when I am scrubbing toilets. (GLAMOROUS).
(Although really I just posted that picture to show you how cute my baby is. Not convinced? PLEASE TO BE SHARING MORE CUTENESS:)
This is my room. There are no pictures on the wall (or indeed, on any wall anywhere in my house). I have no idea what to hang, and I have no budget for hanging things anyway, and so I hang nothing. Although my daughter did make me a birthday banner, which we taped on the wall. (It will probably be there for YEARS before it occurs to me to remove it.)
There are always multiple cups and soda cans on the nightstands (and now I am sad that I dismantled my oh so impressive pyramid-o-soda on Tuesday), and the bed is never, never, NEVER made. We actually use two comforters, because we both steal the covers and it just works out better that way. We don't have a bedskirt and we only have two sets of sheets total, because A) for real, king-size sheets are ridiculously expensive, B) I'd rather spend that money on cheddar cheese (which is ALSO ridiculously expensive), and C) that's what the washing machine is for. (Or so I hear.)
(But it IS the most comfortable bed in the universe. And I'm somewhat proud that we finally broke down and bought a headboard two years ago, after spending most of our marriage on nothing but a mattress and frame. We're FANCY.)
This is my home office. Yes. It is a card table. WHAT.
The 14 year old chair is also very fabulous, I know. (I like the cushion to be showing like that - kind of authentic-like.) Also note that I am back on the DDP sauce. (FOR SHAME.)
And then there is the Queen of the castle, truly a glamorous creature if ever there was one.
If you knocked on the door without calling first on any given day of the week you would probably find me looking EXTREMELY cute, with no make-up on, a scrunchified ponytail in my hair, and some type of four year old hoodie stretched over my oh so svelte frame.
And let me say here - I'm not proud of the state of my appearance/fashion related affairs, I would love to hop out of bed and shower and blow-dry and pick out a fabulous outfit, but alas, I wake up, get the kids fed/dressed/ready/off to school, hand off Jake and Josh to our part-time sitter and then go shut myself up in my home office to work until 1:00, when I usually try to A) get dressed (maybe) and B) brush something.
So yes. H-O-T.
And now, here is the part where I make the ultimate sacrifice and attempt to take an un-photoshopped, pony-tail wearing, no-makeup picture of myself that doesn't make me want to smash things:
OK, wait. Flash problem. Switch bathrooms.
OK, wait. Baby related picture malfunction.
Let's get the five year old to take one, that'll surely work:
It is probably for the best that this is blurry. (TRUST ME, you do not need that particular level of detail.)
In conclusion, this is me, who cares what the world thinks, take me as I am, we are all beautiful in our own special way, whatever whatever self-esteem boosting WHATEVER.
NOW YOU KNOW.
(And now you may actually be able to recognize me on Saturday.)
So if you are not coming to the thing on Saturday (or to Storymakers or to BlogHer or to whatever function you wish you could go to but are nervous to go to because you feel you are less than whatever/whoever), feel comforted in that we are ALL a little bit lame and a little bit awesome all at the same time.