I posted pictures of food that looked effortlessly healthy. Cucumber slices dusted with smoked paprika, drizzled with goddess dressing, sprinkled with celtic salt, topped with avocado. But I kept the tots in the closet along with the roasted garlic bread I dipped in a pond of olive oil and herbs. I curated my life to look cozy and clean. All cats and plants and fresh fruits & veggies. It was a subtle brag that showed off the choices I thought others would admire. I hid the heavier habits in my book as a layer of cushion for my ego. Then if the judgment lashed back, at least they had been invested enough to read it. Or maybe I just wasn't willing yet, to share all of myself, all the time, because I was afraid of what people would think.