I have never been a woman who hates other women because they're skinnier or prettier or have on a more fabulous outfit. I might feel inferior in the moment, but I don't feel resentful.
Or anyway, I didn't. Until recently.
Driving out of Nick's work garage entails going through one of two narrow, narrow alleys.
There are poles on either side that have been bent by trucks trying to get in. The building walls on both sides have gauges in the red brick. Trucks routinely get stuck or skibble along the sides.
You have to creep out, poking the car nose a little forward, to make sure you don't mow over any pedestrians, much as you might like to. Because most of the time there will be someone ambling or darting across - either oblivious to cars or trying to beat them.
So the other night night this attractive blonde in a belted tan trench coat and heels stopped on the sidewalk as we approached. Nick waived for her to go, and she waved a thank you, and strolled in front of the car.
And as she was crossing, I noticed how thin and pretty she was. And how her coat flowed so nicely as she walked. And how comfortable the belt appeared. And how not-strained the buttons were
I muttered, "Bitch."
"She was nice! I waved her across."
The truth is, it had nothing to do with her. She probably is a nice person.
It's just that I now resent the shit out of anyone in a cute little outfit. Anyone who walks with a light step. Actually, pretty much anyone not-pregnant.
One of my friends from work is just beautiful, and always perfectly put together. Fantastic outfits, nicely accessorized, and with lovely makeup up. And a mother of two!
It is not that she's not run ragged between hauling kids to day care and working a full-time job. It's just that she puts it all together extremely nicely.
She wore heels through her pregnancies, and she always wore nice clothes. She says she felt like a cow most of the time. But to the outside world, she looked fantastic. Her youngest is now a year and a half, and she's back to her kick-ass figure.
I ran into her in the kitchen a couple days ago. Me in my same goddamn warmest black pants and sweater and clogs, and her in some lovely, fitted, very together outfit. I looked her up and down and tried not to glower too much.
And asked, "Do you mind if I hate you just a little, every single day?"
She says this is par for the course.