Being Real

Being real is really hard.

In this world of instant uploads, instant gratification, instant accessibility, we come to believe that we should be instantly successful, instantly fit, instantly and always perfect.

Of course we know this isn’t possible. We know that there isn’t a single secret to becoming instantaneously muscular and the next Victoria Secret model. We know that truly becoming successful doesn’t happen overnight. But somehow we still believe it, even if we don’t mean to. Why else would there be so many self-help books or diet fads?

It’s hard to let people know that you actually don’t have it all together. I mean, its entirely obvious to me that my life is a little…chaotic. It’s probably entirely obvious that your life isn’t all roses… but is it obvious to others?

There’s nothing wrong with having fabulous things happening in your life or for living a life of your dreams  and sharing that joy with your friends. I honestly LOVE seeing my friends thrive and succeed. I’ll be the first to cheer you on and support your endeavors.

But we’re all human. When I truly look at my instagram feed or the things I post on social media, they’re typically all the good things. Which is GREAT! I love good things, but without meaning to, Im portraying this facade that my life is put together. Great husband, great boy, great vacations, great life. Don’t get me wrong… my husband is pretty incredible. I thank God continuously that he blessed me with someone who is so patient and kind (and I think he’s pretty smokin’ hot, too) but he can really drive me nuts. Like hold your breath and clench your teeth nuts. And I’m actually surprised that he hasn’t fled for his life on multiple occasions because of the Jekyll and Hyde that is his wife. It’s seriously impressive that he walked thru the first few years of marriage with me and STILL wanted to father my children afterwards.

My sweet little doe-eyed boy isn’t an anomaly two year old. He’s cute but he’s actually made me cry on multiple occassions. Out of pain. Nothing like a black eye two days before a fashion show. I went to the dentist this winter because he fractured my tooth. HOW IS THAT EVEN A THING?

And I… well, I have some deep rooted insecurities that make my heart palpitate just at the thought of mentioning them. I don’t even want to say what they are because I’m afraid of what you’ll think. Which is stupid, I know. But, I also think that if I’m feeling these things, then some of you probably are too. And it’s in the thought that we are ALONE that things can really spiral out of control.

So, here it goes.

I’ve really struggled with my body image over the last 8 years.

It’s been bad.

And it was fueled by the desire to reach certain measurements within my industry, that for me, were truly unattainable.

At one point, I was working out twice a day, seeing a personal trainer, eating horrendously little (I even counted the calories of the gum I chewed… it’s so embarrassing to admit) and my hips were still considered “too big.” Once, when I wasn’t getting down to the size I was trying for, I was asked what I had eaten for lunch that day. When I stated that I had had a greek salad, no feta, no skin on the chicken , dressing on the side, I was told that I shouldn’t have eaten the olives.

I’m not kidding you. OLIVES.

I didn’t eat olives for the next two years.

That was when this whole self image thing was at it’s worst. Over the last 5 years, I’ve been able to acknowledge the lies that I was believing about myself and replace those with truth. I’m of more worth and value than the number on a measuring tape or the size of dress I wear. Just because I couldn’t reach this ridiculous standard of “beauty” within the fashion industry, didn’t mean I was any less valuable to the human race. I wouldn’t have been able to struggle through these realizations and beliefs without my faith. And, slowly but surely, things got a lot better.

But, every once in awhile, just when I think I’ve completely kicked poor-body-image to the curb, something springs up and triggers it all over again.

That happened this weekend.

The thing is, I know the truth about myself. I know whose I am and WHO I am. But sometimes it’s really hard to believe it when you begin to base your beliefs on what you think others think of you.

And you know what? I’m tired of it. I’m truly tired of allowing my perception of other’s thoughts to dictate my own. Because, just like viewing someone’s instagram feed and unconsciously wishing you had their “perfect” life, it’s your PERCEPTION of the images they’re giving you that makes you think they’re perfect. They’re not.

So here I am, attempting to break the mould of perfection. I have a really blessed life, I’ll be the first to admit it. I’m so thankful for it. But, I also really struggle with every-day things. I’m not suggesting that you need to start filling social media with misery. Please, for the love of all good things, don’t. What I am suggesting is to stop believing that you have to live up to this facade that you didn’t actually mean to make in the first place. It’s okay to admit that you don’t have it all together. It’s okay to be  imperfect. In fact, it makes your friends feel a lot less lonely and left out when they know that you have struggles just like they do. It let’s you take a sigh of relief and feel a whole lot more freedom when you realize that they have imperfections too.

Even when the smiling boy in your feed convinces you otherwise.