beautiful girl

I was going in the large grocery store doors yesterday and a beautiful young woman was coming out.  we passed each other through the door.  as most gals do i couldn't help noticing her, weighing myself by her standard and found wanting.  she had perfectly highlighted and flat ironed hair.  she was wearing great clothes that i doubt came from her local friendly goodwill.  she had a killer bag that made mine shrink under my arm in shame due to something sticky being spilled in the bottom and the fact that i had a two day old string cheese in there somewhere.  she had a rocking shape that boasted of either daily grueling workouts at the gym or an envious metabolism.  i suddenly remembered that the last time i set foot in a gym was to pick up my daughter from swim practice and i had a mocha with whipped cream in hand at the time.  like most (insecure) women do, i took all this in in the three seconds it took for us to pass one another.  my eyes glanced down at her feet without seeming to do so as i confiscated control of the door and she took it from me.




beautiful high heels of course.  why don't i grocery shop in high heels?


yet.


one was black, the other brown.


the same style.  exactly. 


she must have bought two pairs.  maybe a sale?  maybe just insanely comfortable shoes?


but two distinctly different colors.


and i smiled, but not in a mean-girl way, just in a maybe-we're-all-put-together-with-elmer's-glue-like-our-preschooler's-cut-out-paper-dolls.


and i realized maybe my mom, and your mom, and you when you say it to your kids, are right.  nobody's perfect, child.