I'm fragile - go easy.

I’m about to show you the real me. The braless, un-bathed, un-powdered, un-caffeinated me. Please refrain from running in circles with your hair on fire. As I said – I’m fragile and might cry for hours if you poke fun of the dark circles or hair so greasy it could be wrung out and used for a fish fry.

There. That wasn’t so traumatic now was it? I feel liberated already. This is what a woman, a tired Mama of three, a human waking from sleep looks like. How do you like me now internets?

Sweetney has a challenge for us. Show us your boobs. No wait, that was last week. Show us yourself - your morning self. The beautiful woman you are as you gently swing your delicate feet over the bed in the morning. The graceful, exquisite creature your husband opens his eyes to each morning. The fresh-faced Mama who greets the clamor of her energetic children with smiles and composure.

Hah. Who am I kidding? I’m not even a fully-functioning biped until my second cup of coffee. (My husband will attest to watching me crawl to the coffee maker on occasion.)

So let me see your pretty face.