I'm sure she always has friends to go out with.
She's never lacking in that department.
She's like that.
All the time.
I'm sure they're always flirting.
Her and her husband.
Always being cute and romantic and supportive of each other.
Her relationship is like that.
And she wants everyone to know.
I'm sure her kids are scholars.
They take after her, so why wouldn't they be?
And pretty perfect…
She probably lives in a perfect little house,
that she keeps perfectly clean,
'cause her perfect kids know not to act up or make a mess.
And her perfect husband, well, he loves his perfect wife 'cause
that he admits he doesn't deserve but vows he always prayed for.
Choke me with a spoon, please!
I refuse to swallow that bull.
I refuse to let myself believe that everyone else has "got it going on," and they are getting life sooooo right while I haphazardly go through my days like a nervous and confused squirrel in traffic.
Do you know where I am right now?
Where I finished my dinner tonight?
In my bedroom and my bed because I didn't know where else to take my carcass post disagreement with my other half.
There you have it, folks. A grown woman, admitting her life isn't perfect and sharing her real.
Do you know where else I go sometimes? To the bathroom. Not to use it, BUT TO HIDE! Just for a few minutes, when my kids are driving me absolutely bonkers.
Do you know the kind of things I do?
I eat a block of cheese in one sitting.
I make two sandwiches instead of one for dinner.
I make non-purposeful trips to target,
and I regularly buy a trenta-sized coffee, when, really, I only drink a grande portion of it.
I have children that argue about anything and everything.
I yell when I could respond calmly.
I feel every single freakin’ feel.
I have a dog who sheds an over abundance and his hair, well, it hides my hardwood floors, and when it comes to those floors of mine, I don’t vacuum or mop them as often as I could or should.
I have a washer and dryer that are never empty because I just can't stay on top of that stuff, and I lack organizational skills.
And sometimes a filter.
And couth and grace, and, honestly,
in every aspect of my life,
I'm a holy hot mess.
But I'm me. And I'm honest.
And in real life,
real families are made up of real people.
Real people who are extremely messy and complicated and flawed and probably the furthest thing from who you, an outsider, thinks they are.
In real homes, we fight with our spouses. Not often, or that wouldn’t be good, but it happens.
And our kids fight with each other and with us.
And we all act disheveled, look disheveled, and live in disheveled houses.
Real families don't always get everything right and Lord knows we don't always look like we're doing alright.
BUT — one thing we get very, very, very, very right is our humanness.
And not being ashamed of it.
Respecting it and honoring it
by not hiding it,
and by not trying to convince each other,
the world at large
or ourselves that we are anything but who we are — imperfect, but still awesome.
Listen, I’m sure you’ve got in your mind some version of who somebody is.
Maybe she’s your friend, a co-worker or just a woman you’ve seen around.
And who her spouse is.
And what her relationship and friendships are like.
And what her family is like.
And you far too often compare
you and yours to her and hers
forgetting that her “highlight REEL”
— the one she’s shared with you or the one you’ve taken the liberty of concocting yourself —
is entirely different from her REAL.
Humans are complicated creatures and women take the cake.
It’s about time we women sit down with one another, with a slice of cake and decide to relate to one another’s real instead envying each other’s reel.
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