March 19, 2007 at 5:08 am | Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment

What is up with THOSE moms? You know the ones I am talking about. They look like they have it so together. They have the skin, the toned body, great hair, beautiful, well behaved, smart children (ya, I’d like to say that all kids are beautiful, and they are- one the inside, I am sure), handsome husband who makes serious bank, and a smirk on their perfect little faces that you KNOW means they got them some last night.

I see these women, and it is all I can do but to sit there and stare at them and silently chant “they have a nasty std, their breasts aren’t even real (no, wait for any mom that’s actually a good thing…), that one kid looks like he has a different dad- wonder if the husband has noticed, her hair is bleached too blond, the husband is never around, they don’t cook (or eat, apparently)… I can find some little imaginary problem with anyone who appears so perfectly perfect.

Oh, but wait, why do I care? Because I judge. Because I want for them to have problems worse than mine so that I can feel better about myself and my life and my problems. Ridiculous, isn’t it? Sad, really. I know.

I do eventually force myself to stop thinking about other people and what they appear to have or not have. I remember to count my blessings. I bet to a lot of people, I look like I really have it down.  In fact, I had better look like I have it down, because I am so OCD that I try hard to make it appear so.

I actually think about these things.  I will try and make sure that Hali at least appears to be doing no wrong. I ply her with snacks and toys and books to keep her quiet in church. I pose. You know the one I’m talking about. The one that makes you look your thinnest. That one. I plaster on the fake smile ( Jeremy is constantly telling me I look like I am unhappy/mad/an unwilling participant in torture when I am not purposely guarding my expressions).  And I do all of this and hope that it looks casual and easy and effortless. Huh. Somehow, I am doubting that if I have to think about it that much, it isn’t. 

So no, I don’t have great skin, a toned body, or a husband who makes serious bank, and I didn’t get any last night. But, I do have e good hair. And a reasonably well behaved and smart daughter (if somewhat socially inept) and a handsome husband. My boobs are real, in all their huge saggy glory, my daughter is definitely my husbands daughter, my hair isn’t too blond, and I cook and eat.

Well, it could be worse. It could be better, but that’s just my own dang fault isn’t it? I can be such a meanie. Really, I mean who thinks these things? Ugh. I think I really do need a mind make over. Some one should come in like, with tools ‘n stuff and just have at my brain. I am thinking tiny little gay men. Not like those Umpa Lumpas though- they freak me out.

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