Gotitall Woman

She walked in the office today looking very awake. Her hair straight to the shoulders and curled under at the ends. My hair was sucked up in a clip while it was still wet and was now hanging limply on top of my head. Her makeup was perfectly and generously applied. I have a huge zit on my chin that refuses to go away and demands to be noticed. Her outfit was cute in a hip-indie-chic kind of way - complete with nifty hat. I was wearing a sweater that was pilling and boring black slacks with no shape. She spoke with that zip in her voice - not a hint of timidity. I still had my early morning crackle. She walked fast, but not too fast. I shuffled. She had her 2 year old son on her hip and her best friend trailing behind her. I was at work. She used ton of expression in every word. I did my best to smile pleasantly.

She probably met her friend at the coffee shop for breakfast this morning. While she sipped her mocha latte skinny decaf with one hand and finger-combed her sons hair with the other, they chatted about her latest web-design project, her husband’s traveling, and her frustration with the contractor who is building their new house. Her friend laughs at every word that comes gracefully dancing across the bright red lips. After breakfast they shop the downtown stores - not window shopping - actually buying items. She buys a new book at the bookstore so she’ll have something to read on her vacation next week. She complains how she still hasn’t found the perfect bathing suit, but she ordered three off the internet and hopefully one of them will do. She’s been tanning for a month just so she’ll be primed for the beach.

I go home for lunch. I sail across my unmopped and unvacuumed floors straight to my bathroom. I stare into my water-splashed mirror at my reflection - trying like crazy to get concealer to actually CONCEAL my imperfections. I pull the clip out of my hair and comb it smooth. I turn on my curling iron and delicately turn the ends under - leaving a few wisps out of the clip for dramatic effect. I try for a few minutes to remove the fuzzballs from my sweater before I give up. I lint roll my already lint-free slacks. I pull up my socks so not a wrinkle could be found. I consider putting in earrings but I know they will just get in the way when I answer the phone so I close the jewelry box. I put on more concealer. I go to make supper so it will be ready to cook when I get home and realize I left my meal plan in the car. I cook some chicken nuggets, pour myself a glass of milk, and quiet my raging mind with a cheesy soap opera.

I don’t really want to be her. I don’t want her life because I think after time her life would bore me. I just wish for once I felt that confident, alive and fresh. I wish I could wear that nifty hat and not look like I was trying too hard. I wish I could meet friends during the week for breakfast at a coffeeshop. I wish I had a 2 year old to "complain" about. I wish I didn’t feel like putting on stuff to conceal ME was the only way I felt able to leave the house. And that’s when I hear Him say it, "Who told you that you weren’t enough?"

"And all of you, is more than enough for all of me
for every thirst and every need
You satisfy me with your love
and all I have in you is more than enough"

Maybe I am the gotitall woman.