I became inspired to write all of this today after I found myself sitting in my car at lunchtime (a common theme of inspiration for me, I suppose) with my windows down, watching as a middle-aged woman climbed into the car next to me as her friend yelled from across the parking lot, “You’ve got this girl. Knock ‘em dead!” I couldn’t help but reflect on the fact that two older, Southern (see: North Carolina license plates) women could be so encouraging to one another on a normal day for no reason. And I don’t know whether to smile or cry that such a tiny, innocent exchange was so inspiring to me.
The thing is, there are so many details that I’m leaving out of this scenario. I’m leaving out the fact that it was 1:00pm on a Thursday and I was sitting in the Moe’s parking lot, alone, scrambling to apply mascara and some lip balm. I’m leaving out the fact that I was doing this so that I’d be comfortable walking inside carrying an ounce of dignity to order my Kids burrito and queso, before heading back to the office (where everyone else had already seen me and regularly sees me, without makeup?) I’m leaving out the fact that I didn’t see how oily my face was all day until I caught my forehead in the car mirror. I’m leaving out the part that I was (and currently am) covered in remnants from a new sweater that I just bought and haven’t washed yet, so there are tiny little hair-like remnants stuck to my khaki pants and also my underarms (thanks, Target.) I’m leaving out the part that throughout all of this, I was (and am) slightly hungover from an event I attended last night.
This was 20 minutes of my life, sans-Facebook, sans-Instagram, sans-BWH, where I was fully human – a 24 year-old hungover adult who works in Corporate America, runs a blog, eats Moe’s, has an oily forehead, and is covered in sweater remnants. I’m more than likely going to skip my workout tonight – again. I eat from the office candy jar excessively often. I get late-afternoon migraines if I don’t have coffee throughout the day. I unknowingly ate a weed cookie a few Mondays ago and thought I was having a psychotic break. And *gasp* -- I take antidepressants to keep myself from getting too sad, compulsive, and in-my-own-head about things, as well as to help me from turning into an actual monster when I’m on my period.
I think one of the main reasons I’m posting this today is because I have seen a constant pattern of Babes whom I admire being too intimidated to get involved with the BWH mission because they’re “not doing anything in comparison” to Babes that have been featured so far. But what I think people are refusing to accept is that we’re all trying so hard to show each other the most well-respected versions of ourselves whenever we have the chance. We're not actually getting what we're seeing.
