I spent all of Sunday morning meticulously meal-prepping, labeling containers, feeling like a domestic goddess of wellness.

By Tuesday evening, I was eating lukewarm cheese straight from the block, staring wistfully at those perfectly portioned quinoa bowls.

Some guys on dating apps say they want a woman who's 'natural,' 'doesn't wear too much makeup,' 'low maintenance.'

But then you show up without a full glam squad and they look at you like you're an uncooked potato.

I've started to think that my planner is just a book where I write down all the things I'm pretending to have control over

I was at a coffee shop the other day, meticulously arranging my scarf, latte, and phone to achieve peak 'effortlessly chic' aesthetic.

Meanwhile, my brain was just frantically trying to recall if I turned off the curling iron.