By Becky Andrews
According to Social Media (for most of us):
We have more than two hundred friends or followers.
Never taken a bad picture (unless a “friend” tags an unapproved shot. In that case, the picture is deleted and the friend “unfriended”).
Family vacations are filled with nothing but laughter, delicious food, and perfect weather.
Our children make straight A’s and never talk back. They are star athletes, self-taught musicians, blindingly attractive, adored by everyone, and have never gone through an awkward phase.
We feed our family organic fruits and vegetables, cook gourmet meals and eat together at least once a week. In some cases, we post pictures of said meals to prove it.
We are cool enough to be friends with our teenager’s friends.
We are way cooler than our parents were!
Never more beautiful than when pregnant.
Marriage is perfect and even after all this time, he/she still gives you butterflies.
The house is always meticulous.
40 is the new 30.
We either think the Kardashians are a disgrace to humanity or we “have no idea” who they are.
We knew about Harlem Shake and Gangnam Style before our kids.
And according to social media, because I’m a wannabe writer some assume I draw inspiration from the morose writings of Sylvia Plath, Virginia Woolf and Emily Bronte’.
In reality (for me):
Besides my brothers and sisters, there’s only a handful of people who will tell me if I have a piece of spinach in my teeth. Ironically, those same people would also let me talk to a group of people with that same piece of spinach in my teeth just to get a laugh.
Having my picture taken creates so much internal anxiety, I would gladly spearhead a bill that would require a license and background check before one can purchase a camera.
On our family vacations, the kids are fighting before we hit the road, the food is overpriced and if we’re lucky, we get 2 days of sunshine.
Straight A’s as a young student doesn’t automatically spell success as an adult any more than memorizing a Julia Child cookbook will make you an award winning chef. Plus, it’s more important to teach our kids to like themselves before worrying about who does or does not like them.
Gourmet cooking is a waste of time, and if eating Ball Park food on the bleachers counts as family meal time, my family has been doing that for years.
My kids don’t want to be my friend, follower or fan and their friends don’t even use the account they’ve friended you on.
I could care less if a smart alec, little twit thinks I’m cool, I know I am!
I gained 80 pounds when I was pregnant.
While my husband makes me happy on most days, I’d gladly trade him for a housekeeper.
If 40 is the new 30, is 80 the new 70? 40 is 40 and 30 is 30, get used to it!
The Kardashians make my family look totally normal and that’s the only reason I know who they are.
I actually did know about the Harlem Shake and Gangnam Style before my kids. Only because I work in an office full of 20 something’s.
I really am a wannabe writer however, I prefer the less serious musings of Carol Burnett, Lucille Ball, Roseanne, Amy Sedaris and of course my favorite, Erma Bombeck. Besides, laughter can drown out the negative dialogue in your head.
Social media has its place but, instead of friend, follower or fan, I’d much rather you call me the other F word, FUNNY!
Comments? Email becky@wilsonlivingmagazine.com
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