Okay, ladies. I have something on my heart that I think needs to be talked about, and I wonder if maybe....just maybe...you might feel the same way. If you do, then it's worth discussing. And if you don't, then pretend you never read this and continue on in your blissful little world of contentedness.
Ladies, I'm afraid of you.
Terrified, to be exact. I mean, look at you. Perfectly thin. You just had a baby, and you're already wearing your skinny jeans. Have you ever heard of carbohydrates? Have you never been tempted by a big fudgy brownie? How do you get your metabolism to do that?
And you. How do you have a perfectly coordinating pair of shoes for every single outfit you own? I don't have time or money for shoe shopping (or outfit shopping, for that matter), and I'm not nearly as put together as you. Yet secretly I yearn for your fabulous footwear instead of the smelly old sandals I threw on this morning.
Then there's you with your beautifully dressed and well-mannered children. Every time I see them, they look perfect: clean and matching clothes, bows in pig-tailed hair, hands folded in laps, using inside voices. I strongly suspect they're even bathed regularly. Is every day a Sunday in your house? Because I can barely pull it off once a week.
You. With the clean house and the gourmet cooking. You know who you are. The perfect homemaker. I was content with my dust bunnies until I met you. I was satisfied with spaghetti and hot dogs and Taco Bell. Your laundry is folded, your counters are wiped, your clutter in invisible, and your house smells like apple pie. How you do it, I will never know. I bet you don't even have crumbs in your van. Me either.
To the beautiful ladies: do you roll out of bed gorgeous, or is it your life's work? You're always manicured and pedicured and highlighted and styled. I am not. Your makeup is flawless, mine is put on while driving. I find it difficult to keep up with your perfection, especially when I don't hit enough red lights to do my eyeliner.
To the athletic: your body is perfectly toned and in shape. Mine too. Do you actually enjoy exercise? Because if you ever see me running, I guarantee there will be something ferocious chasing me. Like a bear.
And then there's you. My hero. My heart's desire. The perfect servant. I am in awe of you. You give willingly of your time, you serve God and others with a smile on your face, you sacrifice your life daily for the good of others. I see no selfishness in you. I want to be you.
You intimidate me. All of you.
What is it about us, ladies? Do we truly believe that there's someone out there who has it all together? Why do we always compare ourselves to each other? Maybe it's because we don't notice the imperfections until we really get to know one another. Do we only see the strengths, the "perfections", the things we wish we also had? The things we feel we're lacking?
Is it possible that we're scared of women that are different from us because we're afraid we'll find out that we don't measure up? That we won't be accepted? That there's something unforgivably wrong with us? Are we that insecure in who God created us to be?
I've had the amazing opportunity to get to know all sorts of women in a couple different arenas this year. At first, I was scared of some of them, uncomfortable and intimidated by them. But as time has gone on, I've realized that no matter how different we all are, I have something in common with each and every one of them: imperfection.
So, ladies: the skinny, the stylish, the "perfect" mothers and homemakers, the organized, the beautiful, the athletic and the servants, and also the intelligent, the talented, the funny, the daring, the outgoing, the compassionate and everyone else I missed: let's stop being intimidated by each other! None of us is perfect. All of us have our struggles. Instead of categorizing each other based on the false "perfections" that we see, let's get to know each other and then be bound together by the imperfections that we all share.