A Shocking Self Reflection, Done Entirely In Selfies

I did something the other night that I've really never done before; I read a few blogs.

You would think, that as a blogger myself, that I would also be an avid blog reader. Unfortunately that is not the case. I know, I know, it probably makes me seem super un-supportive of my fellow bloggers, but the truth is that I barely have enough time to write this blog, let alone read one.

I'm kind of a loser.

But the other day I found myself in bed reading who the heck-knows-what, and for reasons that I can't even remember, I eventually started scouring the Internet for all of the most popular women's blogs. 

And let me tell you, it was quite the eye opening experience for me, because I learned that not only do most of the other bloggers in Internet land have amazing husbands, perfect kids, gorgeous houses, exciting jobs, take lavish vacations, and spend an exorbitant amount of time throwing parties, they also just look... better than me.

Um, like in every single way.

For example, the fashion blogs. How on earth do women do that? And by "that," I mean look so damn good all the time. I must have scoured pages upon pages of bloggers teaching the world how to match plaid with florals, and here I am, honestly just happy if I can match my socks. 

In fact as I write this, I'm sitting in my friend's daughter's old t-shirt, and my underwear. It's not as glamorous as it sounds (humor me and just pretend that before I made that disclaimer you thought it sounded a little glamorous).

But the biggest shocker to me, aside from their totally perfect lives, was how in nearly every single photo of said bloggers, they all looked perfect too. Like it isn't just their lives that are perfect, but them too. With the exception of a few snapshots where a child was eating a melting ice cream cone (please remind me to take a photo of my kids eating a messy ice cream cone, so that I too can be part of the club), everyone looked amazing, ALL THE TIME. I even came across pictures of bloggers painting their bedrooms while wearing white linen sundresses, and copious amounts of photos taken in hospital beds, with captions that practically screamed "I just had a baby 5 minutes ago and look at how perfect my hair and makeup is."

Do you know what I looked like 5 minutes after I had a baby? I looked liked nothing because my head was in a barf bucket, and the last time I painted a room, I wore a shower cap because for the life of me, I cannot seem to avoid getting paint in my hair.

So yea, basically, I'm not them.

I am just not that perfect, which was clearly evident when I migrated back from their blogs into my own. As I started looking through the pages of my own blog, I realized that not only have I clearly not achieved the level of perfection that the other bloggers exude from their pages, but that I have most definitely dropped below a level of "less than perfect" and have landed somewhere that I will just call "why the hell did you post that?"

I mean sure, I talk about rape, domestic violence, and child abuse. I also let the details of my financially disastrous life and humiliating break-ups hang out all over Internet land, but seriously Eden, why did I need to back it up with so much photographic evidence?

I mean all the other bloggers are over there swearing up and down, left and right, that they do not have tattooed eyebrows and they just magically look amazing after swimming in Niagra Falls on one of their luxury vacations, and here I am proclaiming, "THIS IS NOT MY REAL NOSE!"

And no, it's not even like someone caught a bad photo of me and I just happened to post it on my blog, most of my awful photos are selfies, i.e. photo's that I willingly took of myself, and then shared with you.

Like the time I shared with you that my friend was nervous to try a new hair removal cream, and so I volunteered to join her.

Did I see any other bloggers willingly posting "I just got out of bed and I have no makeup on" photos? (And no, I'm not talking about the "I got back in bed for the photo after I took a shower and applied natural looking makeup" photos that I'm fairly convinced most bloggers use, but I'm talking about an actual picture where I literally got out of bed, and applied nothing but hair removal cream, and then posted it all for you to see.)

Did I see anyone else doing weird shit like that? 

Nope, just me.

Did I see any other bloggers super excited when they discovered that Walgreens had a sex section?

Definitely not.

Anyone else posting about losing a bet to their child and agreeing to wear her child's rain coat to school? 

NOPE! JUST ME AGAIN!

In fact while most people were posting pictures of their lavish dinner parties, I'm over here having footie pajama parties with my Platonic Hubby.

And super strange fashion shows with some super bizarre outfit that Frisbee Boy's Mom gave me.

In fact, speaking of her, do you remember the time Frisbee Boy's Mom convinced me to try on what I can only assume was some stranger's sex shoes? Or as she called them "Come fuck me" shoes?

WHY DID I EVER AGREE TO THAT??

I guess because I am also the kind of person that agrees to wear stuff like this.

And do things like this.

And layer like this.

(What, you've never seen this on a fashion blog?)

And I know that some of you just come here to chat and get advice, but unfortunately sometimes all you get are conversations like the time I told you about my Platonic Husband taking me into the city where we got trapped in the parking garage (after watching a woman shopping while wearing slippers and a shower cap, and seeing a lady outside with her cat, who was wearing a sweater. Yes, the cat. Sweater. On the cat).

I don't even remember what the hell this was, but I think it was for some post where I was angry...

And then there is my infamous editorial bio picture. I'll never forget my editor emailing me after I uploaded it to ask "what the hell happened to your face?"

Or even better yet, there was the time I accidentally drew a penis on my face and didn't even notice it until I got about a hundred emails from you guys, all asking why I had a dick face.

And while everyone else was posting pictures of their amazing midnight kiss on New Years Eve, this was me. Remember the New Years Eve party?

BECAUSE I GOTS CLASS!

Beach vacation photos? Not a chance, because where I was, it was -17 out.

Hot dance party? Apparently not, because I look like this kind of nerd.

5k training? (Seriously, is every, single, blogger also a runner these days?) Cuz although I do enjoy a good run, I'm over here posting pictures of myself running through foam and pretending that I'm some kind of athlete.

Cocktails and wine tasting? More like the time it took my Platonic Hubby and I nearly an entire bottle of rum to figure out how to make a daiquiri. I had never seen a blender overflow like that before...

Which you know by now is pretty typical of the weird shit that happens anytime I get together with my friends, because unlike all of the other bloggers and their super perfect friends, my friends are just as weird as I am. (Sorry friends. Love you.)

I mean sure, sometimes we get a couple of nice selfies out of our get togethers....

...But generally, just like us, there is nothing normal about our pics.

At least I've posted a few "normal-ish" photos of The Girl Child and me.

Er.. I mean... Uh...

This is better....

The Boy Child on the other hand...

I'm not sure how those kids are going to turn out as anything but strange, because have you seen their mother?

I mean everyone else is over on their blogs like "look at this amazing clothing ensemble that I have put together today, aren't I fashionable?" And I'm over here like "let's take our clothes off for a minute and talk about reclaiming our sexuality. Which, probably makes me the slutty blogger.

In fact, do you remember the goofy blog I wrote about wearing a new bra to the gym, and at one point I walked past the mirror and realized that it was riding up and I looked like a total slut? It was a post that was used to totally poked fun at myself....

... but also caused several readers to go completely ballistic that I would dare show so much skin. Instead of doing the normal blogger thing and issuing a politically correct apology, I egged them on by proclaiming that I was more than just my sexuality... complete with pictures to incite them.

Sure, I've tried to take a few "nice" selfies, but I just don't feel like they are "me."

(And no, I did not dye my hair, it's just the difference between the reflection of the sun)

But I can honestly say that I don't like those pictures as much, because they are definitely missing my usual spunk!!

So if you are looking for the fashionable girl, with perfect children, politically correct yet-still-sexy selfies, who isn't wearing hair removal cream (or an accidental dick) on her face, and doesn't have a sticker mustache, then you are on the wrong blog.

Eventually I closed out all tabs that I had lined up across the top of my computer screen, each one linking to the page of a blogger who is apparently doing life right, and I sat there realizing that I wasn't any of those other bloggers, and that I never would be.

I am just not that perfect.

In fact, sometimes I get paint in my hair.

Or accidentally draw a dick on my face.

As I continued to sit there and let it sink in that I've been over here blogging about what a disaster I am and how I'm doing it all wrong, everyone else has been taking their little corner of the Internet and using it to showcase how they've been doing life better than me. And while I let the panic ripple through me and fade out through my heart, I came to a startling conclusion.

I'm OK with that. 

I don't need to be what people are expecting to see when they land on my blog, because I don't need to be perfect in order to star in a life worth living. I love that I've created this weird little space to showcase my dorkiness, because those perfect bloggers? I really don't believe that they exist outside of the lens in which they are willing to let you view them.

So, perfect, you won't find that here, which is amazing, because it allows all of you in.

Welcome to the weirdest club that you have ever been a part of, the only one where you don't have to put on a matching t-shirt and be defined by a group, to be accepted as part of the group. A place where you don't need to be perfect, in order to be everything that someone might need; and a place where you don't need to be perfect, to be worthy.

If we all just spent a little more time accepting that we don't need to be accepted, just think of the time we would have left to focus on how awesome we really are.

You are awesome, because every way that you are not "perfect," is just another example of how you are unique.

People don't come to my blog looking for fashion advice, or party ideas. They don't come here looking for stories of romance and amazing parenting advice. I don't hand out financial tips and help people figure out what color to paint their bedrooms.

People come here because they feel lost, broken, and want to see that despite their cracks, that they are not worthless. I don't know when blogland turned into a competition of perfection, but you will never find that here.

Here, in the land of reality, we accept our imperfections, just like I accept all of you.

If you look around at other people and you just don't feel like your life is quite up to par, stop looking at them. Their lives are not measure of your success, and their accomplishments do not reflect on you.

You are you, and you need to let everyone else, be everyone else.

When we spend all our time looking at other people, we voluntarily give up the time we need to celebrate ourselves.

We have all come from different walks of life, and because of that our paths will not be the same. We are not headed in the same direction, so stop worrying about how other people are getting there.

Live your life your way, because the way that others are living theirs will be of no concern to you when your focus is on the only person that it should be on; the only person who should really matter to you.

You.