Every day, I kill a few minutes Instagramming snapshots of a touched-up me supposedly holding my own damn world together.
Check it out: here I am holding my baby son in the Bjorn. We’re both smiling in the mirror — golden and perfect. And look! Here’s me staring the world down, my selfie squint just the right combination of sexy and tender-eyed invitation.
Well, that’s what I was thinking anyways after I finally got sick of taking like 40 different versions of the stupid thing.
No one cared though. No one cares.
People are starting to see through the jig. We can only pretend that we’re all living the dream for so long, you know? We can only lie about ourselves to a certain extent before the world starts to catch on.