You know the one. She’s immaculately turned out on your 7 am commute to work, no doubt having already completed her daily Pilates or run. Her hair is perfect, her make up impeccable and her clothes look freshly steamed – probably because they are. They’re also designer, but no biggie.
On Saturday morning, I was on an early flight that necessitated a 6.30 am cab. I’d had little sleep, tossing and turning throughout the night waiting for my 5.55am alarm to go off. I was packed and had blow dried my hair the night before. My outfit was jeans, converse and a cute striped top – put together but not over the top for the time of day or the occasion. Make up was minimal, just some BB cream, concealer and illuminator to help create the illusion that I was in fact a person, who was also awake. I was attending a wedding later in the afternoon, and my eyes were feeling sensitive and tired, so I skipped eye make up and contacts and instead opted for my glasses, content in the knowledge that the afternoon would see something of a transformation in my appearance. Despite the distinct lack of sleep, I felt pretty good.
And then I saw her. Designer clothes, perfect hair, chic pale pink manicure. All self confidence went down the drain, which is shit, to be perfectly honest. The question struck straight away though: why do we always compare ourselves to THAT girl? I’ll admit, in that moment, I basically wanted to be her. Sometimes, I even am her, but don’t realise it. On the plane, I did some thinking, and some writing. This is what I landed upon:
I’ve come to realise that that girl represents everything I think I want to be, but in reality don’t value enough to actually be it all the time. The glam fashion job, the uber cool parties, the chic friends – it’s all a bit of a ruse. This is actually the second time this year that I’ve had this realisation. Earlier in the year, I was in the running for a super cool job working in marketing for a premium alcohol brand. It would have involved a fair amount of travel and a LOT of events. At first, I was pretty desperate for this job. Imagine the parties, the people I’d meet, the sweet free champagne I’d score! Amazeballs. On paper, it was the job THAT girl would have. Think about it a bit more though, and you’ll uncover what that actually means: constant lack of sleep, irritated skin from regular alcohol consumption, stomach and general health issues from the travel, long hours and probably little work/life balance, and the kind of superficial friendships that I’ve never really been interested in. As someone who does not deal well with being tired, I realised pretty quickly that it wasn’t the best job for me. A part of this realisation was that I don’t actually want to be that girl 24/7, and that while outwardly it might appear perfect, I know I’d have been breaking on the inside.
I think what I’m getting at here is that there is always more to the story, and we can all be THAT girl from time to time – but no one can be her all the time, and no one’s life is perfect all the time. But also, THAT girl isn’t me. And that’s ok. I’d much rather be me anyway. I can only imagine how much pressure there is on that kind of girl to be perfectly put together every day, and quite frankly, I’d rather that it was ok for me to look like shit on occasion anyway. I think it’s so much more important to be the best version of you, that being the version of you that makes YOU happiest. Not the version of you that you think you should be. So here’s to being you, and being me, and just generally being awesome. Happy Monday, lovers.