*hello* I'm Michelle, and I am okay

Last week was a struggle.  Nothing was really wrong.... some frustrations, but not anything big.  But, I found myself snippy and complaining and plain frustrated.  

I read so many blog posts about how to be, how to keep it together and *keeping it real*

But, they all still seem too perfect still....

It isn't perfect here... but I am not going to show you what my messy house looks like... I am not going to give you the token messy shot.  You want keeping it real... well, here it is.....

Sometimes I don't like deep, meaningful friendships...sometimes I want someone who will obsess over what color I need to paint the back of my secretary.  Maybe someone to drool over a celeb crush.  Or someone that doesn't want to analyze every. little. thing. Shallowness.... nothing wrong with it. 

I don't watch the news... I am not up to date with world happenings.  The news depresses me.  I don't want to hear horrific things... I don't want to shut my eyes and see death and dying.  But, when I read about a sick child or animal, I feel it.  In my bones.  I cry with you.  But, do I want to hear horrific stories?  No, I don't. 

I don't want to read "bettering" books.  Because, deep down, I really like myself.  Maybe not the extra pounds I want to lose or my frizzy hair.  But, my personality with all its flaws, I like it.  I know it.

I like that I know how to read a story just right to my little boy.  And, I like that I have excellent taste on music (or so I think.)  And, I like my style.  I enjoy going overboard for birthday parties and such.  For my baby and for us, because you know what... maybe the Mr. and I  will only get one 2nd birthday.

And, I like that I don't wear socks that match. 

I am just materialistic enough to like things like little blue boxes and designer bags but know that those things aren't essential and can live without them and still be happy. 

And, I wear perfume sometimes that I think smells good even though my husband doesn't care for it and my bff loathes it.  My sister loves it and says it is me.

I can't tell you when my monster last ate a veggie (except for guacamole.)

I don't need to have a girl's night out.  I know that I am okay without one.  That maybe my therapy and let looseness involves picking up a paintbrush and painting a chair my favorite shade of green.

I am almost 32 years old (eek) and I know myself well enough to know what I need and what is important.

And, sometimes that is reading Owl Babies several times a day instead of cleaning the blasted shower.

I truly would give up my right to vote if it meant staying at home with my baby.  Girls, I am not a women's lib type of lady... I am not a go-getter CEO type.  

And, you know what?  I like myself enough to even name a piece of furniture after myself.

Silly as it may seem... this chair is me.

*Michelle*

Green, not red,

Black and white 

Vintage and modern

So, while I hope you like her (and me)

I like her (and me)

Perfectly imperfect, unshaven legs and all.

Bye for now!