This isn’t a post that I usually publish. It’s a bit airy-fairy, I guess. But I wrote it a few months ago and I feel it still relevant, so I’m hitting ‘Publish’. Enjoy!
I’m sitting in the park and there is a girl sitting opposite me reading a book. She is pretty frumpy with a long black floral skirt, a black t-shirt and boring mousey hair. She’s also eating an apple as she reads.
On the opposite side of the park are two girls. They look great in denim shorts, wedges, cute tops, all accessorised with jewellery and aviators. Earlier today, I was feeling frumpy – I came to the park with no makeup on, a simple cotton dress and my notebook. When I walked in, I felt pale and insecure, that my dress was unflattering, that my hair was still wet from my shower earlier. I wished that I were more stylish, that I had the perfect body to be able to wear denim shorts to the park and look cool and casual.
After a couple of hours, the two girls stand up and walk past me. They are younger than I thought. Teenagers, dressed up for every occasion. I look up again as they pass me and also notice the girl reading the book again. She is fully ensconced in her novel. And then I realise. She is probably happier than them. She is probably very content with her afternoon in the park reading a classic. She probably has a healthy balanced lifestyle and fewer insecurities than what a teenager would have. I am looking up to the wrong people. I want to be like her – a grown woman enjoying time alone with a book in the sunshine. And then it hits me as I look down at my flip flops and notebook. I am her.
Sometimes you have to step back and realise who and where you are.