i get real, really really...

I don't know. Maybe there are some perfect people out there, and maybe they have perfect husbands, great spiritual lives and all that. That isn't me.

I eat junk food.
I rotate the same two pairs of pants every week. Yes. Two.
I do not return voice mails.
I am pretty sure I have social anxiety.
I don't exercise.
David and I have fights, big ones and definitely still working on a happy marriage.
I have so many regrets about my past. I am holding on.
I spend most weekends in bed.
I would rather hang out with the kitties than people.
I haven't been to church in several months.
David annoys me sometimes.
I am moody and emotional and a brat.
I haven't cooked in 2 or 3 months. Possibly more.
I haven't been to the dentist in ages... ages.
I hate attention and hugging is weird for me.
I love tv and haven't read a book in 2 years.
I don't want children.
I don't know who I am.

I enjoy blogstalking/bloghopping. It is people watching at its most intimate. But sometimes I wonder what is real. No one ever talks about stumbles in their faith, only their triumphs; they rarely talk about bad days or issues with weight or husbands or that they can't stand their kids. Surely everyone has these issues. I guess blogging isn't the forum to expose your dirty laundry. I do realise I shouldn't compare myself to the blogs I read.

Or maybe life is that good, simple and pure for the lucky.