My name is Kate. I am a 38 year old single woman living in Arlington, Virginia just outside of Washington, DC. I am originally from a small town in southern Indiana where I was raised by a single mother with my five other siblings, a brother and four sisters (trust me, that's whole other post in itself). I moved to DC on my 21st birthday and almost 19 years later, here I am. I have had the idea about a blog for some time but I couldn't quite nail down exactly what I wanted to say....until today.
This morning I was walking my dog, a golden lab, named Basil (pictured above, she's pretty cute, isn't she?). I live in an urban neighborhood where grassy areas are at a premium. Most of the time, Basil has no standards and will just take a dump on the sidewalk but on a good day, she'll put the effort in to go on a patch of grass.
In my less than awake state at 6 a.m. this morning, I allowed to her to drag me to a large grassy area where she proceeded to do her business. Upon completing her putrid transaction, and me, "doody"-fully picking it up into my lavender-scented poo bags, we continued on our walk. It wasn't long before I realized that the scent of her morning ritual had not left us. I begin looking around, checking her over to see if I missed something and then I saw it. I had stepped in a GI-NORMOUS amount of dog dookie.
It was the kind of step where it oh-not-so-gently crawls up the sides of your shoe. The kind where you immediately contemplate whether or not it's just easier to throw this pair of shoes away. Unfortunately, I am a thrifty bitch (thanks, Mom) so I don't throw things away that are still in good shape. I immediately knew that my morning would consist of scrapping an insane amount of shit off my shoe. Seriously, what kind of dog left this amount??? Do we have bears around here?
I was searching for the perfect branch to assist in my efforts when I had the thought, "nobody takes a picture of this type of B.S. and posts it on Instagram with a #BLESSED". Then it hit me. I had to be the one to do it. This is freaking real life stuff here. Shit happens. Literally.
Look. I get it. I have Facebook and Instagram accounts and I'm always posting photos of the cute way my dog sleeps, or a "Cheers" of a glass of wine with my friends, or a picture some beautiful place that I've traveled to. That is the image that I put out there and I frequently get the "Where are you going next? I live vicariously through you!". That's nice and all but...that's not my real life. It's bits and pieces of my real life and, trust me, the parts that I am SO incredibly grateful for. However, I thought, I have nieces. I have young women in my life who view these and so many other things on social media that send them messages about who they think they should be. "Look perfect!", "Travel to exotic places!", "Drink coffee out of adorable mugs", "Manicures are never chipped", "Babies always smile!", "Our relationship/marriage is perfect", and so on and on and on.
And It. Is. All. Crap.
OK. Not all of it, but guess what? Sometimes, you step in dog poop. Sometimes, you have a pesky whisker that grows out of your chin. Sometimes, traveling to exotic places gives you diarrhea for 5 days. Sometimes, I drink coffee out of a mug that says "If it requires pulling on pants, I'm not doing it". Sometimes, my nails are so chipped that I hide them under the table in meetings at work so my coworkers don't think I've turned emo. OH! and also, manicures are as expensive AF. Sometimes, it seems as if babies never stop crying and in that moment, they don't feel so cute. And ALL the time, relationships are freaking hard and none are perfect but, maybe, when you find someone you love, they're worth it.
This blog is about imperfection. This blog will be stories about f'd up moments in my life and the lives of women I know, love, and admire. My hope is that it will inspire others to know that sometimes life is not perfect and that is perfectly, absolutely, 100% ok.