I don’t have a thigh gap. My thighs have touched for as long as I can remember.

I messed up my eyebrows so bad in middle school that I have no hair there and drew them on for years until I eventually got them microbladed.

I shave my face and the hair on my toes.

I never wear shorts because I have thunder thighs and giant calluses on my knees and ankles from sitting cross-cross applesauce for the last eight years.

I used to want to be a professional soccer player, went to college to play, then stopped because the only thing I wanted to play with was boys.

I dye my hair when I’m feeling stressed and stuck.

I suck at arguing. I get frazzled and sound like a bumbling airhead.

I have anxiety, but I manage it without help. It’s not crippling, just a nusance.

I talk to God every week, but I haven’t been to church in years.

I feel like I don’t financially contribute enough to my family.

I have a dual-degree in criminology and psychology, but the only misbehaving crazies I interact with are those I birthed.

I went to law school and dropped out after a semester.

I can be super impatient and I’m rarely “in the moment.”

I yell. A lot.

I’m super-insecure, but present like I’m not.

I’m trying hard to figure out who exactly I am, but I’m not quite there yet.

But you wouldn’t guess all of that from this picture would you?

A picture may be worth a thousand words, but a thousand authentic words tell you so much more.