After work today I went to get a long overdue pedicure. When I got there it was full, but quickly people wrapped up their manis and pedis and made their way out the door, and I looked around and realized I was, at one point, the only client.

Then she came in. I know her from high school. I can’t say there is any conflict between us, no hard feelings with any substance. But in my memory, she thought she was better. In my mind now, perhaps it was me that thought she was better.

And all of my insecurity, all of my self-loathing descended upon me in a huge wave. She didn’t snub me. She didn’t say anything unkind. It was not her doing, it was all my fault.

As I sat there, I kept thinking about how my life would move along that day and how hers wouldn’t be anything like it. I doubted that she’d go home to clean up cat hair and litter. She was not going home to slip on old sweats and a t-shirt with a worn out collar. She’d probably not be folding towels that had long grayed and were tattered. She wouldn’t be digging through her purse to find keys that she loses every single time she drops them into her big, clunky, overfilled bag.

She’d probably not be warming up a light frozen meal and sitting in front of the television as she ate it.

I am sure her yard is lush, green and mowed. I am certain her home is in order and not in need of painting or cleaning. I bet the colors are perfectly chosen, her closet nicely organized and her shoes line up neatly.

She was not me. And I imagined her daily frustrations were minimal and her life smooth. I believed that her life was somehow easier as she was loved and admired by her family and her friends. Her support system, I could just tell, was amazing and her self confidence and worth reflected that.

And then I recalled my family, knowing they were not my support system, that they rarely rally for me or build me up, or even strengthen my confidence. I have a lot of people in my life, I thought, telling me what I need to do, what I should do, what I do wrong, how I do it wrong and what is exactly wrong with me and my choices. She didn’t have that, I was sure.

I wish I had ended the night with some insight. However, the only thing I left with is that it wasn’t her fault. My insecurity, self-loathing and the lack of self worth had just manifested in her. And perhaps, I am just a little obsessive and my imagination is sometimes in overdrive.


One response to “If

  1. Kissed Knitter

    Oh sweet one. You have nothing to loathe. Trust me.

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