The Woman I Am in My Head vs. The Woman Who Actually Leaves the House

In my imagination, I’m effortlessly stylish.

My hair looks amazing.

My outfit is perfect.

I walk into a room like I own the building.

Reality?

I changed clothes four times.

My hair is doing something independent.

I can’t find one earring.

I’m carrying six things because I refuse to make two trips.

And I forgot why I walked into the room.

But you know what?

She’s still fabulous.

Maybe not polished.

Maybe not graceful.

Maybe occasionally walking into furniture.

But fabulous.

We spend so much time comparing ourselves to imaginary versions of ourselves.

Perhaps we should give the real woman a little more credit.

She’s doing her best.

She’s funny.

She’s trying.

And she remembered her keys today.

Mostly.