In real life

When you have a blog you can present a view of yourself that's quite flattering, selecting carefully which bits of your world you want to share with t'internets. You can project an image of a perfect life if you so choose. I could tell you that I live in a gorgeous house with beautiful children and my life is chock full of joy all the live long day. I could tell you I am thin, unwrinkled and without a grey hair upon my head, I could claim great wisdom, good dress sense and a serene inner calm and be thin, did I mention that? I am seven stone and 5 foot 10 and have no boobs. I can also cook, sew and sing and I once ran a sub 4 hour marathon. I also have my dream kitchen. In my head.

I wish I'd thought of that, instead I regale you with tales of domestic incompetence, technical ineptitude, drunken teenagers and fatness. It's too late to tell you my life is perfect, some of you have been reading for years and some of you actually know me in real life.

I have a million faults, I wish I didn't. Some of them I've known about for years, some of them I've tried to address and some of them I've just not been ready to see.

In my head I am laid back and almost impossible to stress out, I'm a "go with the flow" nothing fazes me type. In real life I can get to full fat cross shouty shreikery more quickly than a Ferrari gets to 90.

In my head I am a proper traveller, turn up with a passport, credit card and a spare pair of knickers and see where I end up. In real life, I book flights and transfers and live with a low level degree of anxiety that something will go wrong. I am terrified of missing flights and don't relax until I actually arrive.

In my head I am great at sharing, I am a "what's mine is yours" help yourself nice person. In real life if it's mine I like it to stay mine and if I lend you it especially books I want it back, even if I know I'm never going to read it again, it's mine so give it back.

In my head I can't bear the sort of people who at shared dinners whip out their calculators and demand we all pay for what we have eaten, in my head I am one of the people who say oh there's 6 of us, lets just divide by 6. In real life I am secretly glad that they do as I am fed up subsidising someone elses's 3 course and a bottle of wine feast when I've had a plate of pasta and a sparkling water and paid £30 for the privilege.

In my head I am not a control freak and an insistor on getting my own way but in real life my way isn't just the best way but the only way. And I insist upon things being my way and say such caring and loving gems such as "you don't have to live here"

I am just coming to terms with how much control I have and seem to need, I always thought I was really flexible and open to other peoples point of view and wants and needs. I always thought that the kids set the agenda and I just facilitated things. I am sometimes okay with things if it suits me, that's the key right there. I suppose that being the only adult in the house for the last 5 years has given me the last word. I like the last word. I like to be the boss.

In my head I never wanted to be a bossy kind of girl. In real life I have become the bossiest of bossy girls, but I am trying to be less bossy and more open to other peoples wants and needs. I am trying to be better at sharing. I am trying to be less stressy and anxious.

But I still want the last word.