Alright, I know, it’s been actual ages since I’ve written anything. This whole “life” thing sort of happens and bed time looks really nice around 8pm. (Don’t kid yourselves, I don’t actually go to bed at 8, but boy, would I should the opportunity arrive)
I wanted to re-envision the blog when I created this new page. Take it from bedrest and beyond, to the actual next step of “beyond.” But, then Josh deployed for a year and with 10 days left until he comes home, I realized that nothing happened with the blog over the year because I was too busy keeping little people alive and ensuring that our domicile didn’t erupt into flames. I only set the smoke detector off twice, Victoria.
At any rate, one thing I did do over the year was make the decision to compete, and execute on said decision, for the title of Mrs. Wyoming. And, I won. Which is awesome. And fun. And a wonderful adventure. But, it’s also been something that has opened my eyes to this notion that everything appears to be perfect in photos, and videos.
Just yesterday, being the 4th of July, I began to see all of the other state queens posting their 4th of July celebration pictures- every one of them perfect. Posed perfectly, hair perfect, makeup perfect. So, my initial thought was, “I need to keep up!” Went and spent time getting my hair “perfect” my makeup “perfect” and tried to find a good angle to take a photo. I decided ultimately that a photo wasn’t the right move and instead did a quick 20-second video to post telling everyone to have a happy and safe 4th while reminding people to get a safe ride and to be careful with fireworks. Cop out? Maybe.
Here’s the thing though. This idea of needing to “keep up” ate at me all night long. And it’s not a new feeling. I’ve had conversations with friends lately about feeling inadequate- about seeing what others are doing and thinking “I can’t compete with that.” Which is stupid. I’m not competing against them at that point. I’m competing against myself. And I’m losing.
To be clear- there is nothing wrong with how any other women (or person regardless of gender) chooses to share their own life. If that makes a person feel like a queen or king. Do it. If it makes you happy, do it.
It just doesn’t make me happy.
Now hang on, this isn’t a pity-party type of post.
It’s a realization, a declaration, and a call to action. I’m not going for perfection anymore. I’m going for honesty. I’m going for the idea that Mrs. America will represent normal American women. Not the “perfection” that fills Instagram, or Facebook, or Twitter. (Does it go on Twitter, I’m not really on it, so I’m not sure, but it wouldn’t surprise me) I want my energy spent on being the kind of person that can relate to anyone, and in support of everyone.
So here’s my promise to you. I’ll write about it all. I’ll show it all. Hair undone, not perfectly skinny, not perfect teeth. Everything. You wanna see my couch piled with folded laundry (sometimes folded) and kid toys? You got it. You want to see my unmade bed? Sure. You want to see my kitchen after a baking adventure? Absolutely.
If I’m going to go out there and compete for the chance to represent us, then I’m going to do it from a place of honesty, and real hard truth. For us women. Hell, for all of us. We’re not Instagram perfect. We’re not made up 24/7. We work hard, and struggle hard. We win, hard. And, every once in a while, we get to do it and looking awesome.
Thanks for sticking with me through this. You rock.