In reality, I eat oatmeal every single day for breakfast. Coach’s oats (from costco) with honey roasted almond slivers and cut up strawberries. I’ve been cutting out coffee because I think too much caffeine has been giving me headaches. I’m not home from work for longer than ten seconds before I’m ripping off my clothes and reaching for my virgin yoga pants (virgin, because they’ve never been to yoga). Andrew and I make dinner – we’re even meal planning these days because we are taking a stab at this responsible-adult-thing and some days its even kind of fun. Then we watch Netflix for a few hours and go to sleep. The most exciting thing to happen to me recently is that I won a bet against Andrew that the guy from Theory of Everything would win Best Actor at the Oscars, so Andrew has to do the dishes for a month. SERIOUSLY BEST BET EVER. On the weekends we nap and putz around LA and eat in-n-out just enough times to make Monday seem manageable. And then we do it all again.
ONLINE, I eat cupcakes for breakfast and drink champagne on Fridays and sometimes even Wednesdays and I wear clothes with rainbows and kittens and my house is perfectly organized and very, very white. I’m witty and sarcastic and maybe even interesting. I practically shit sprinkles.
In reality, Andrew is currently laying on the floor behind my chair and playing “cat music” for Nala. Yes, CAT MUSIC. He read something online about music made just for cats and it’s like weird, dreamland-techno music with the sound of cats purring mixed into it. And this weekend we spent a good solid 45 minutes arguing about the white/gold vs. blue/black dress fiasco and introducing the concept to my parents. Okay, on second thought, that was pretty hilarious. And also, I was able to see BOTH white&gold and blue&black so I think that makes me a unicorn or a mermaid or something.
Online, I don’t talk about my bad days or my hurt feelings or my insecurities. Well, not on instagram. That’s what this place is for. This blog was my cutting board, my bleeding place for everything that has happened over the past few years. And instagram was a celebration of survival; a laugh-until-you-cry-disco dance party. And that was all good, for awhile. But it’s not working out for me to have two so different sides to my life anymore. Writing has taken a backseat, because I don’t know how to write about happiness. I know how to spell happiness in sprinkles, but not in actual words. And so the blog suffers and the donuts reign all.
I’m not opposed to the donuts reigning all, especially if I get to be the Donut Queen or something. But I need to acknowledge that these two sides of me do exist. Why is it SO hard for me to write about the good things in my life?
I promise to try to be better at it. (That’s a promise to myself, but I’m writing it here…. well, because. Accountability. Duh.)
Okay, MERMAID OUT.