The morning after my last post I woke up with a headache. Some sort of bloggers hangover. I rolled over and thought, “What have I done?!” As my roommate, Amy, put it, “That post was SO personal, I can’t believe you blogged about that.” I rubbed my head and drank a pot of coffee. “Should I delete it?”

“Maybe no one will notice?” I thought.

But then I got a tweet from my dad. Too late. I forgot. My parents represent 50% of my subscribers. Probably should have thought of that before I hit publish.

Instead of deleting, I decided to do what I do best: work non-stop and hope it deletes itself.

But as I was working on this:

 

I realized something. I spent my entire time in India with Esther, trying to get women to lift up their veils and show us their faces. So we could share them with the world.  Kind of hypocritical of me to be insecure, eh?

 

Time to be myself – with all the glorious imperfections.

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