Today I’m wearing a white top and a light grey skirt. I’ve only had it on half an hour and last nights slow cooked stew which i decanted in to an ice cream tub for my lunch, has managed to seep down my skirt.
I never learn though. I know I can’t wear white and remain immaculate all day, but I still try to.
When I think of a person who can wear white I think that her life is probably pretty immaculate. Shes super tidy, her clothes are in colour order and shoes in named boxes. Shes super organised, intelligent and probably has never lost her temper or had an emotional outburst of any kind.
I suppose me spilling things down my white clothes is a representation of my life really.
I am not immaculate and my appearance is never pristine. I do (although not very often these days) have emotional outbursts. I’m vocal, I try not sugarcoat how I feel. My life is my white top and its marked. But God loves a tryer, and believe me I am certainly one of those.
However, I’ve never tried to be anyone I’m not. I am always true to myself and towards others. What you see is what you get. It’s ok to put on a show on Facebook that you have this amazing enviable life, it’s ok to put a front on at work or to your friends and family that your life is perfect, but it must be exhausting, you know, pretending to be someone you’re not.