Everything I Ever Wanted To Be

I'm sure you see her.

Why is this girl so happy?

She's the one whose clothes are neatly pressed, nails perfectly manicured, waist so narrow, house is immaculate, and children polite and behave. (Sigh). Mine are so wild sometimes, even Dora can’t explore them.

She is everything I am not.

But I'm trying. I'm really, really trying.

I know I told you I don’t have a resolution.

But I promised myself that for the New Year I will be the best me.

And I've really tried to stick with it--I'll spend wisely, eat better, stay active (*finger cross*), and take charge of all my work stuff.

But then there's me.

The me that everyone sees. Fat arms. Outdated clothes. My husband threatened to burn this one blouse I still use. He said he saw me in this blouse even before I gave birth to our eldest. I wonder if Sigmund Freud is right about penny-pinching.

I am always tired. My hair is flat. My nails are broken and unkempt.

Perhaps I'm being too hard on myself, but seriously? I don't feel great most days.

I feel like there's this person inside of me just waiting to bust a move in the outside world.

But instead she's buried in laundry and all the rest of the mundane chores a woman has to do every day.

So, this year I decided I'd change all that. I will work hard all weekends to get the house organized and in order. I’ll set time for manicure and pedicure.

But I woke up last Saturday morning and reality hit me: Saturdays are reserved for cooking, cleaning, and generally un-fun things. And Sundays are saved for ironing.

But thanks heaven, manicure I did.

But you know what happened when I hung my clothes up in the laundry?

I chipped the polish off of my newly manicured nails.

Gah.