I'm not a model. I'm not a signer. I can't sew for my life. If you asked me to change a flat tire, I would call Triple A because momma ain't raise no fool.
Sometimes, as an outsider I can look at someone and think they have it all together, but no one is perfect. Duh, of course I already knew that, but sometimes I feel like I can forget. I get lost in the blog I'm are reading, or the feed I'm scrolling through, and I start to think someone poops glitter and roses.
In a world where there are fake tans and extensions like mine, and "FInstas" (fake Instagrams with the pictures of life no one would dare post to their "real" account), I'm learning to take everything with a grain of salt.
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