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I Want to Be Comfortable in My Own Skin, Even When ...

I want to be comfortable in my own skin—not just some of the time, all of the time. Even during those moments when I feel so low I can't imagine shuffling one foot in front of the other. Even then, I want to take a deep breath and believe in myself and trust that the hard moment will pass.

I want to be comfortable with who I am no matter what ...

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Even when the other mothers seem more friendly with each other than they are to me.

Even when my kid isn't invited to the big party that every other kid is going to.

Even when every family seems to be on a fabulous vacation, but we are staying home because of budget.

Even when I have to get to work before the kids wake up, and I feel guilty for not seeing their faces in the morning.

Even when my car is the oldest one in carpool lane.

Even when my boss figures out I'm not interested in leaning in.

Even when I forget to bring snacks or schedule the play date or sign the permission slip or send a check for the book fair.

Even when I yell ... actually, especially when I yell.

Even if I couldn't tell you the last time I had a conversation with my husband.

Even when I sneak away for a pedicure, or when my toes look like they haven't been pampered since the Bush administration. The first one.

Even when I'm too tired to work out but not too tired to eat ice cream after the kids are asleep.

Even when my kids tell me how the nanny is better than I am.

Even when some Internet troll tells me that having a nanny means I don't love my kids.

Even when the payments are late, and I don't have a present for the party.

Even when I gossip with others to assuage my own low self-esteem.

Even when I spend too much money on crap I don't need at Target/Loft/T.J. Maxx/Zulily.

Even when I go three days without doing the dishes.

Even when my daughter makes me so mad I flip her the bird behind her back.

Even when I cry in my office because my supervisor didn't praise me enough. Or at all.

Even when I put down my book to read U.S. magazine.

Even though I don't know the first thing about any of the presidential candidates.

Even when I have a pimple.

Even when my outfit is wrinkled, out of style and the wrong color for me.

Even when I blow the deadline and have two new rejections in my inbox.

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Even when I'm sure I'm the worst and there is no hope.

Then, especially then, I want to come back to the still, small part of me that cheers me on. The part of me that knows everything is going to be OK. Because sooner or later, it really is.

Image via Twenty20/samueloskar

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