We love women! They’re the peanut to our brittle, the cheese to our whiz. They top up our love tank in ways men can’t touch. But the road to lady zen isn’t all kumbaya.
Mean girls develop the same time as breasts. Young fillies learn to tag team in a social game of Survivor. One day the alliance is solid, the next your torch is snuffed. Sorry Karen, this game is for two, it’s exile island for you.
And so begins the love-hate seesaw of female friendships. Admiration sprinkled with jealousy. Insecurity mingled with self-doubt. Turns out the kinder we are to ourselves, the nicer we are to others.
I hereby resign from competitive comparisons, because frankly my dear, I don’t give a fuck. My sincere apologies to all the girls I’ve loathed before.
1. I judged my own standards (lowered with every child) against women with spotless homes. I now understand that life is messy, and it’s their way of sweeping shit under the rug.
2. To the glam girls with bangin’ bods. I never truly wished you harm (well, maybe just a little). You worked hard for that six-pack. The six-packs I worked on resulted in a third snowman roll.
3. To the mothers of children smarter than mine. You know the ones, they share and compare how their kid memorized the periodic table, while mine wiped his nose with his sleeve. I forgive you.
4. To the chickadees who chirp about others the moment they leave the room. I’ve learned not to pay attention to people who talk behind my back. It simply means I’m two steps ahead!
You don’t have to blow out someone else’s candle for your own light to shine!
JOIN THE SISTERHOOD!
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