I did something really stupid today. Like, really, REALLY stupid and I can’t stop thinking about it. It makes my stomach feel all weird and tight. I spent, like, hours editing a picture of my stomach. My stomach! The one part of me that’s supposed to be perfect, you know? Because I’m a fitness instructor, I guess. People expect me to look a certain way, like I’m carved out of stone or something. And there was this tiny, tiny fold of skin, right above my belly button, when I was sitting down a certain way. It wasn't even a roll, just like a little shadow. And I saw it and my brain just kinda… broke, I guess. All I could think was, if anyone sees this, they’ll know I’m not perfect. They’ll know I’m a fraud. And then what? No one will follow me online anymore. No one will come to my classes. My whole world, which isn't even that big yet, will just crumble. It's so messed up. My dad, he was in the military, and he always said you gotta be tough, you gotta be ready for anything. And here I am, freaking out over a skin fold. It feels so… weak. Like something a spoiled kid would obsess over. My parents would probably be so disappointed if they knew how much time I wasted on that. But I couldn't help it. Every single day, every day, I see other instructors online, and they all look so perfect. Like, absolutely flawless. And I know, I know it's probably not real. But it feels real. And if I don’t keep up, if I let one tiny thing slip, then it’s like I’m failing. Not just myself, but everyone who looks up to me. And that’s a lot of pressure, even if it's just in my head. I just kept zooming in and smoothing it out, trying different filters, making sure the light hit just right so you couldn't even tell. It took forever. HOURS. And when I finally posted it, I felt this huge wave of relief, but then also this really heavy feeling, like a rock in my chest. Because it's a lie. The picture isn’t really me. It’s some perfect version of me that doesn't actually exist. And I'm just so tired of pretending, but I don't know how to stop. What if I can’t? What if this is just how it is now, every single picture, forever? I don't even know who I am sometimes, just this person trying to be what everyone else wants to see. It’s exhausting. And lonely.