Can I get real for a minute?

Since my last blog post, I have been having more than my fair share of Stuart Smalley moments.

For the first time since I started the blog, I lost followers after a post.

Apparently, you can’t mention Jesus and truck stop tittie bars in the same paragraph without people gettin’ their knickers in a knot.

I’ll just bet that if I were a man, it wouldn’t have offended as much.


At first I was bothered…it was not as if what I had written was any worse than anything I’d written before. After some contemplation about writing for pleasure and oneself {ie no pay} and writing for profit, I’ve come to a few conclusions…and so, a quick disclaimer:

Just as I have the freedom to choose what I write about as well as how it is written, y’all have the right to choose whether or not you want to read it. For the love of gravy, this isn’t communist China. What I wrote may have been offensive to some people, but I’m not going to apologize, and here’s why…

Authenticity. That shit matters to me.

The internet is a wondrous and magical place, bulging at the seams {does the internet have seams, or is it like the universe; infinite?} with misinformation and people pretending to be who they aren’t. For the sake of discussion, we’ll refer to it as the Facebook Phenomenon.

“Look at my fabulous life!!! Look at my perfect house, perfect spouse and our perfect children!! I am the CEO of Jack Squat Enterprises and I make like, a bajillion dollars a year. My manhood would put Ron Jeremy to shame and my wife’s ass broke the internet. Our children, Allegra and Focaccia, have been accepted to both Harvard Medical and Law Schools and our dog Sir Fancy Pants, the Duke of Licks-his-rump just won the Westminster Dog Show for the fifth straight year.”

If any or all of these things are true in your life, well then…good for you. You can prioritize which of these things is most impressive. I’ll keep my list private – for now. Lol.

If none of these things are true, stop struttin’ around like a banty rooster and dig deep. Who, exactly are you trying to convince?

We are all being fed a mouthful of horse dung about perfection and consequently, what constitutes success: All you have to do is be conventionally beautiful, of superior intellect and insanely wealthy and you too, my friend, can achieve “the dream.” You know, like Iron Man. Being part machine is just gravy on the biscuits, y’all.

We have been conditioned to strive for {and project} some ridiculous level of perfection that – and I hate to break this to you, kids – simply does not exist.

We as a collective society do not promote, nor give accolades to the gorgeous individualism that resides within each and every one of us. Being told you are unique, especially at a young age, has a bit of a negative connotation to it. It’s basically a polite way of calling someone weird. It’s a lot like a southern lady saying “bless your heart.” It is a passive aggressive and socially accepted way of being told to go to hell.

Listen y’all, I am a real person, with real flaws and real fears. I struggled for a great many years to fit in, swim with the tide, jump with the lemmings…whatever the hell you want to call it. To pretend.

I’m not interested in pretending anymore. It doesn’t feel good to me. I’m also not interested in other’s ideas of “so-called” perfection.

I am a lady, but I have a mouth like a sailor. I have a twisted and bizarre sense of humor, but most of the time I’m poking fun at myself. I make mistakes and my life isn’t always perfect, but it’s pretty damn close {as I define perfection, of course}. I am in love with my very best friend. We have amazing children who are kind-hearted and compassionate. I get to do what I love. Every. Single. Day.

I’ve grown up, I’ve grown comfortable in my skin…and I don’t care if what I write offends you, because what I write is me…and I won’t apologize for me, because I fought really hard for her. Damn, I feel like Wonder Woman.

So I drop the “f-bomb” more often than you think I should. I’m ok with that, because your authentic self may not be in harmony with mine. I respect that, in fact if what I write doesn’t resonate with you, then I want you to leave…your authenticity matters to me too. It is absolutely your prerogative to leave my tribe.

We can agree to disagree.

Now I need to get back to harvesting glitter on my unicorn ranch.

Peace, Love and Blessings to All…