They sit, giggling and talking about things mothers usually do.
Not a strand out of place and their makeup divine.
The cloths they wear, anyone can wear it, but on them they look like super-models.
Their children come running, wearing the must haves for tykes.
With curls so perfect, Taylor Swift would be envious.
I like to pride myself in how confidant I am.
How it doesn’t matter to me, if I sit alone. Cause I’m chill like that.
But it does.
I act like it doesn’t matter that my clothes are stained from baby puke (something I know to well)
and that my hair is going for the messy look.
But it does matter.
I pretend that size doesn’t matter, that I am happy with the size and shape that I am.
But clearly I am not.
I pretend that the remarks about me using cloth diapers, don’t hurt.
But they do.
I want to be confidant. I want to be the type of woman that the others want to be like.
But I am insecure.