I'm not easily intimidated by other women. People don't make me nervous. I'm comfortable in my own skin and I think I have a fairly good sense of who I am in this world. However, there remain a few subsets of females who give me the tingles.
You know how much your child weighed every month of their lives. You can recite the order in which they lost their baby teeth. You've recorded every single moment of your child's life and have at least three scrapbooks filled with locks of hair and mementos of their growth.
I can barely remember my children's names half the time! I tried your way, really I did. I devoted hours to filling my first born and middle child's baby books. They weren't cute like your memory books, but at least there were some dates jotted in there and pictures hastily taped in. Then we moved... and I lost them. I cannot be you and you, ma'am, intimidate the hell out of me. You have way too much memory power and a bit too much time on your hands.
You know the ones. The ones who have it ALL down. How on earth are you keeping your diets so clean? Aren't you guys starving? What the hell do you snack on when you're drinking? Do you drink? You make me nervous.
You scare me because I'm not quite sure if you're human. Many moons ago I attempted to go only organic, cook each night from scratch, and cut sugars and dyes out of our lives. Then we all got hungry...and busy...and doubled the number of children in our family. It became completely impossible to nurse twins, chase a toddler, and play with a seven-year-old while researching the latest vegan, gluten-free diets.
In the end we bought some crappy fruit snacks and processed cheese sticks and our world was transformed dramatically for the better.
Yes, I have a mouth like a sailor. Yes, that nasty habit is amplified when I drink. Yes, I have sworn a time or two (or a million), in front of my young children. I'm working on this, and I will be working on breaking this habit for some time I believe.
There are plenty of moms out there who keep it clean and then occasionally let a curse word fly. Great. I have no beef with them other than a touch of jealousy at their ability to hold their tongues. There's a small group of women who never, EVER swear. I fear them.
I fear the even-keeled nature of this pack of perfection and I wonder what they think of me. Bad mom? Bad person? Damaged human? Who knows? See this – just talking about this sector of womanhood makes me self-conscious. Nope. We cannot be friends.
You strut into the school yard in a Banana Republic pantsuit, four-inch heels, and red lipstick. You hair is blown out and you painted cat eyes onto your face. I bet your name is Julia, or Simone. I'm watching you from the safety of the car line where I am about to drop my children off in my sweatpants and baseball cap. I didn't look half as good as you do on my wedding day. My guess is that you have your nails done every Monday and you shave up past your knees. Although I fear your perfection, I kind of want to be you.
Once you get to know this group, they are among the coolest of women to hang with. Until then though, they can give cause for alarm. These women always look pissed, their brows are forever furrowed, and their posture says, "Back the f**k up."
I'm not taking my chances with you. Nope. I'm not rolling the friendship dice. Maybe you are really an angry bitch or maybe you're just really concentrating on today's grocery list. I'll never know because you're scaring the hell out of me with that bitchy resting face.
Even the most confident of ladies will have their Achilles heel. These are mine.