See, these were four grown up ladies. Four employed, beautiful, strong, confident, intelligent, educated, stylish women. Three of whom are apparently happily married to successful men and all of whom are wildly accomplished on their own. Then there was me. I felt like the inner city child who gets to go to the rich kids camp for a weekend. Or like the 'here is your brain, here is your brain on drugs commercial' (hint: I'm definitely the scrambled egg). Or like the crumbs at the bottom of the chip sack (you know those are the saltiest). Or like the bad example of a lady. Sing it with me.... One of these things is not like the others....one of these things does not belong.
They sat there discussing medical stuff (see my uber technical use of the jargon there) while I sat back, chugging my vodka thinking "ummm...I make mediocre cookies and try real hard to brush Maya's teeth everyday. Cheers!"
So, all day yesterday while I swam through the post-lots-of-wine-and-vodka haze watching netflix and coming up with reasons to not take a much needed run, I thought about all of the women I know. And I realized something. I ain't sh!t. Every woman I know does everything I do; but they do it while holding down a job, carrying on adult conversations, keeping husbands/boyfriends happy, and always looking flawless. Meanwhile, in the land of ponytails, raised voices and minimal sanity standards, I'm barely holding it together. I'm guessing these ladies let me tag along every once in awhile in some sort of immersion therapy session. Maybe she'll glean some of our power through hand to hand contact when we pass her the bottle!
Will I ever make something of myself? I mean, besides a sandwich? It's looking doubtful. So, I sit back in awe and watch the women around me setting such fine examples of what could have been...knowing it never will be.
To the ladies in my life: I tip my glass to you... Not too far though, I don't want to have to do laundry again tomorrow.
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