That awkward moment when:
You know someone in real life and then you read their blog and you don’t recognize them. At all.
I hope that when my friends read the crap I send out into cyberspace they can recognize me. I hope my best friend says, “yep. yert said that.” and that my neighbor can say, “yeah, I saw her actually do that.”
Fake bloggers, whether mommy, fitness, foody, spiritual…whatever, fake bloggers make the world a really shitty place. They are worse than the air-brushed magazine pictures. At least we know to expect lies from magazines. We don’t expect lies from people who are using their real voice to share with us. We don’t expect lies from people who are supposed to be helping us.
Unattainable comparatives. You are you and I am me and spreading candy-coated drivel in order to attain sponsors and internet fame is on-line with Lance Armstrong’s doping. Lies. Promises and lies and those who really know are puking on their screens.
If you know me, feel free to call me out if I ever pretend to be something I’m not.
Bitches be trippin’.
…and bloggers who lie.