I want to tell you a secret.

I want to tell you a secret.

That mom.

The one who’s legs are thinner and two feet longer than yours.

The mom who looks like she manages to shower almost every day AND put on make up.

The one who somehow wants to work out (I’m still not entirely convinced that isn’t some kind of alternative fact but my best friend claims to be one of these people so I guess it could be real).

The one whose Instagram photos always shows a spotless house and you’re wondering if she’s actually a terminator sent here to make you feel like a hoarder.

 

Let me tell you a little something about her.

 

She’s looking at you and wanting your hair because hers never cooperates and looks like a Furby that’s been through the garbage disposal if she doesn’t spend an hour on it.

She’s admiring that you wear bright colors without giving it another thought and look AMAZING.

She’s hoping that you don’t notice that all of her kid’s party decorations came directly from Amazon while you single-handedly crafted Elsa’s ice castle out of popsicle sticks.

She’s desperately hoping that you don’t notice that stain on her last clean pair of leggings, that stain that may be chocolate or it may be poop.

 

I bet if you could look around inside her head you’d cry in relief because she’s just as vulnerable, terrified and worried that she’s messing it all up as you are.

She’s struggling to remember who she is.

That she’s more than just a milk machine, a walking snot rag. She’s afraid that the person she used to be is so deeply buried under mounds of dirty laundry and empty sippy cups that she may never be able to find her again.

The more you poke around the more you come to a startling realization:

All of those things that her made her seem so unattainable, so above you, so much better than you they all start to fade because the truth is she’s you in different packaging.

Beautiful, brave friends we can’t let our own insecurities allow us to abandon our duty to stand in the gap for one another.

To show our sisters their beauty when they can’t see it for themselves.

To remind our friends that we love them for who they are not the size of their jeans.

To continuously point them to the one that knows their true identity, who crafted them and loves them with such breathless wonder we can’t even begin to comprehend it.

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