In the morning, I don’t look like a cover model. I didn’t wake up looking flawless I just woke up alive. Sometimes I stay quiet not because I’m mysterious, but because I’m tired. Sometimes I laugh too loudly; sometimes I cry over nothing. I’m not a riddle to be solved I’m a person who simply needs to be accepted.

I’m tired of playing at perfection. Tired of sucking in my stomach, holding my posture, and smiling when I want to scream. Tell me honestly, do you want a real woman or a photo filter? The one who smells like morning coffee and is aware of her imperfections or a retouched image that never gets tired and never says no ?

I don’t need you to admire my mask. I need you to stay when I take it off.

A question for you men: what turns you on more a flawless image or a woman who can laugh at her own imperfections?

Anna