Blogging is weird.

It gives you an incomplete picture of people, especially if you aren’t a regular reader or don’t know the person in real life.

If you stopped by my blog for the first time the past few months you might think all I do is drink margaritas poolside in Cabo, pass out on the toilet, or shop for jeans.

But you know what? I am a girl like you.

It’s a glamorous life. Yo.

I stress out about getting to work on time.

I want to pull my hair out when my girls fight.

My face breaks out.

I worry about silly things.

I rarely use coupons.

I suffer from mom guilt. (Did I breastfeed long enough, did I take her paci away too young, did I have to yell…AGAIN?)

I pay bills.

I sometime forget to take that plastic thingy off new deodorant and nearly cut my armpit (ouch.)

I pluck random and sundry hairs…ON MY CHIN. (But only two. ONLY two.)

I roll the garbage out to the curb.

I drive a 9-year-old car.

I make to do lists.

I walk the dog.

I have spider veins.

I get PMS.

I am a flake.

I am insecure.

I argue with my husband.

I am nearsighted.

I have bad hair days.

I don’t like my nose.

I forget to wear earrings and I feel “naked.”

I overthink.

I cry at Miranda Lambert’s “House That Built Me.”

I laugh at Talladega Nights.

I clean my own toilets.

I am a girl like you, ya’ll.

p.s. I QUOTE BARBIE MOVIE soundtracks...deal!