in my own skin

Sometimes it can be difficult to feel comfortable in my own skin when so many woman around me seem to fit their own skin better. They have better looking bodies, cars that are always clean (how is that even possible unless you forbid children to ride in it!), well-behaved children, nice homes, are more talented, have a perfect marriage, and can manage all the responsibilities of being a wife/mom/whatever without ever seeming stressed. 

I'm pretty sure it's all a bunch of malarkey. But the facade is hard to see past. And it makes me feel pretty lonely to think I might be the only imperfect wife/mom/whatever out there.

I like real. I like flaws. I like people who aren't perfect. I like to see scars. Because I have them: scars, flaws, imperfections. They are evident to me every single day. The laundry gets backed up. That funny vein is sticking out on my leg again (thank you, two children), my house wasn't clean when a friend dropped by and there were Cheerios on the seat in the truck where I asked my friend to sit. 

So friends, when you are around me, be real. Be flawed. Be honest. We are all striving to be something more, but it's okay to admit that we are not perfect. It makes it a little less lonely to be an imperfect wife/mom/whatever when I know that you are too. 

KC