I want to be effortlessly cool. I want to be the type of woman who can throw on that t-shirt and jeans combo that's supposed to be universally flattering but really only works on a select few. The type who can pile her hair under a floppy crochet beret and wear heavy bangs and vintage sundresses. I want to rock chunky, menswear glasses. I want to wear ballerina flats and my husband's button downs and suspenders without being asked if it's laundry day.
I want to look ethereal without makeup.
I'm a particularly unattractive shade of blue today over the gal I Am Not. This is the trouble with trolling Facebook - you're bound to stumble upon the person you wish you were. You may not know this person - you probably found them completely randomly, they just happened to have an interesting profile pic - and now you're stuck on the schlumpy side of the street. It's not that you're unhappy with your life - the "life" part is great - you just wished you looked a little more awesome while living it.
I keep reminding myself that there's a reason that Envy is one of the seven deadly sins but jesus, I can't think of a single one I don't engage in on a daily basis.
I'm not sure what this has to do with motherhood, other than suspecting that I'm not alone in my schlumpitude. Maybe it's the potbelly that refuses to tighten or looking at pictures of Jessica Alba in a bikini 3 months post-partum or sitting in a casting office surrounded by pre-baby versions of me but I feel the urge for some sort of major overhaul. I fully realize that beauty comes from within and it's all about your attitude and Here's-the-name-of-a-wonderful-therapist but all I want to do is fantasize about winning the lottery or discovering my latent inner French woman. Can I ask Santa for that?