“I’m that girl.
I’m that girl who forgets to text you back at 1 p.m. because my kids are screaming, and I can’t think straight. You’ll more than likely hear from me around 4 a.m. these days. But it’s fine, because I am eventually going to get back to you. Hopefully, we both still remember what we were talking about.
I’m that girl who will call to tell you a story, but I’m laughing so uncontrollably hard you can’t understand a word I’m saying.
I’m that girl who isn’t going to hesitantly sigh out a ‘yes’ for you when it should be a flat out ‘no.’ I don’t sugarcoat, and I won’t lie my way around the things you need to hear. If blue eyeshadow makes you look like a peacock, girlfriend we’re fixing to have a talk. I would hope you’d do the same for me, but you know a peacock belongs in the zoo, and honey, we all know I got your zoo.
Boy mom. Mom of boys. Corralling wildlife. Raising tiny humans. Call it what you want. It’s the best, hands down. I’m never really sure what day it is, and I don’t even call them by the correct names these days, but they’re clean, fed, and loved. They’re pretty happy, too, I think. Even if they’re hanging from trees and testing the boundaries daily. I’ll claim ’em anyway.
I’m not going to glamorize my life for you. If you come to my house in the middle of a work week, I’ll probably be suffocating under a pile of laundry. There will be a heap of socks I haven’t matched and a hazardous pile of toys in the front hallway. Watch your step. We will more than likely be eating a frozen pizza, yelling over each other, and there’s a good chance my appearance will have seen better days. Don’t worry, I always try to at least brush my teeth. But you’re always going to be welcome. It’s not always pretty. I’m not going to put on a show. I’m not going to kill myself trying to impress. And it’s not always subtle. But it’s a judgement-free zone with open arms. You can always find that here with me.
I’m the girl who is on time for this but late for that, and I’ll probably stop for an overpriced iced coffee on the way. I’ve got this one life, and I’m not going to spend it decaffeinated.
I’m moody in the morning and in my best spirits when I know it’s Friday, but I also know how incredible it is to have another day, no matter what day it is. God is good seven days a week, but I think he knows a little coffee and Jesus hits different on a Friday morning.
I love being a wife. My husband is the absolute greatest. But lawd help us all when my stress level and the laundry basket have hit their maximum. Thank goodness for good men, chocolate, and Bota Box.
I’m that girl who loves being a wife and momma. I love having babies. My health and pregnancy aren’t kind to me, but I’d have a baby every year if I could. I love our family life. I love my husband. But I’m also the girl who has been critiqued and criticized for all of those things. So now, I’m the momma who doesn’t tolerate the outside input. I do what’s right for my own. I make the best choices for my babies, and I’m grateful I don’t have to decide for yours. At the end of the day, you don’t pay my bills, buy my formula, or clean up that blow out diaper baby #3 had at the mall — so, it’s probably best to stay in your lane, Carol.
I’m that girl who doesn’t pick and choose who I love. If who you are makes you happy, then I already love you. I don’t care what you believe, how you look, or who and how you love. I care that you’re kind and a good person. I care that you consider other people in the room when you’re about to swipe the last Chicken Express roll. I care that if someone smiles at you, you smile back. That you still go down swinging for the underdog even if no one is watching. What determines a good person from a crummy one? I’m not really sure. But I’ve set my own standards, and these days, I think they’re pretty spot on.
I’m not political, and I don’t plan to be. The world is so different. We are all different. I don’t expect anyone to think the way I do. Ever. I know what I know, and I don’t really care if anyone else submits their seal of approval. I don’t need opinions, propaganda, or arguments over Facebook to convince me whether or not my morals are in the right place. Come November, I decide what box I check on my ballot. If you’d like to do it for me, feel free to also fill the car up with gas, watch the kids, and fold a few baskets of laundry while you’re at it. God speed.
I’m already too tall for high heels and still too short to reach the diapers on the top shelf at Walmart and still not skinny enough to fit inside that crack between the washer and dryer.
If I put on any kind of dress, I immediately feel like I’m going to a funeral. I have a love affair with dry shampoo, watermelon needs salt, and I’m all about the brownie edges. I would probably swim tirelessly in Doritos and hot fries dipped in ranch if it wouldn’t stain my flesh red.
I’m too much for some people and not enough for the others. I’ve spent a great deal of my life working toward goals, growing, and learning from my mistakes. I’ve always built a firm foundation with the bricks others have thrown at me, and I will always be that kind of girl.
I have a bod — a mom bod. I shimmy my love handles into high rise jeans and have pretty well given up on the padding in fancy bathing suits and wearing a wired bra. Bralettes are where it’s at anyway.
I’m not going to diet. I’m not going to loathe the way I look when I see myself in the mirror. I’m not going to slim down or tone up anytime soon. I’m not going to Snapchat myself working out so you can tell me I’m on fire. I’ll never be a Victoria’s Secret Model, because let’s be real, THAT’S NOT REAL.
I like makeup, and I love a good contour. I don’t know anything about how to contour, but I know I like to stare at the process on YouTube like I’m going to make a genuine attempt at it.
If you’re my friend, you’re my forever friend. I’m going to love you unconditionally and wholeheartedly. I’m going to open my door for you whenever you need some girl talk and come to your rescue when you’ve gotten yourself into trouble. I will fight the same fights you fight. I will sacrifice for you and be a shoulder to sob on. I will check on you even when you’re annoyed with my checking. I will want the very best for you because you deserve it, and I vow to drag you out kicking and screaming if it’s not. I will take the pictures, savor the memories, and crop out our double chins. And I’ll bring the wine. I will always bring the wine.
But let me also tell you something about my friendships. They’re real. They’re with real people who stay to clean up after the messes are made. They come when you need them and are on emergency stand by if you don’t. They also love with their entire heart. They’re the people who I know respect me in the way I respect them. We don’t need validation, attention, or constant negativity for our relationships to thrive. We don’t ever need to backstab, badmouth, or tear each other down to make ourselves feel better. We’re far from shallow and too close to crazy, but we love, support, and cheer each other on, and if you’re not sitting at a table like that, you need to throw in the napkin, get that margarita to-go, and hit the road, sister. Don’t forget to tip the server on your way out.
I’ve been called stupid and ugly. I’ve been made to feel like less than what I am. I’ve been told I’m too happy and I’m not happy enough.
I’ve been the girl who didn’t fit in. I’ve been told I wouldn’t succeed. I’ve been told I was disposable in someone else’s eyes. I’ve wrestled with expectations and fought to be ‘good enough’ when I didn’t actually have to. I’ve been the girl who wondered if she’d make it — and the girl who did.
I’ve also been the girl who is strong when she didn’t think she could be. I’ve stood back up after a knock down I thought I wouldn’t come back from. I’ve went out on limbs I just knew would break beneath my feet and rebounded from heartbreaks I didn’t think could ever be healed. I’ve always picked myself up and kept moving, and I’ve never had any regrets.
I’m a lover of the little things — the small things. That solo mommin’ car ride by yourself when you can finally turn the music up and roll the windows down. The comfy date nights at home in our pjs with a greasy pizza and some reruns. The smell of fall candles and pumpkin spice. The sip of Dr. Pepper that touches your soul. The special moments with the people I love. The small things, yeah, they make up every bit of who this girl is.
I’m that girl who says what’s on her mind. Some days, it’s a downfall. Other days, people tell me I should work for the prosecution. I’m unfiltered, untamed, and untouchable most days. I stand up for what I’m passionate about and walk away from the things I’m not. Life is too short.
If it doesn’t contribute happiness, positivity, and light to my life, I’m not about it. I’ve lost the motivation and don’t have the time for things that don’t truly bring me joy. So, if I’m not as chipper as the moment I get to consume the freshly baked chocolate chip cookies I’ve been perfecting, it’s getting scratched off my priority check list.
I like yoga pants — leggings — laughing, and cake, hold the icing please. I love a good movie, but a good book is even better. Give me a rainy night and a page turner I can’t put down until 2 a.m. So I can hate myself in the morning, and it can feel totally worth it.
I’m loyal, stubborn, and a pro-chaos coordinator. I’m a mess — a hot mess. With a messy bun that I indeed struggled to make look messy. I’m nine kinds of hell in a hand basket with only one thing on my mind. When do we eat again?
I’m that girl who writes to her heart’s content. I’ve always believed words are powerful. They’re emotional, spiritual, and important. They can absolutely save you someday. You never know when. You never know how, and you probably won’t know why until it’s all said and done, but they’ll save you.
You can catch me at the thrift store, Target, or waiting in line at McDonald’s for McNuggets because that’s what my picky kids live off of right now. And it’s fine. We don’t eat healthy meals nightly. We don’t do keto or paleo. We do sanity. We do what works today. And hey, it’s 2020 — and we’re in the middle of losing a game of world Jumanji, who has any room to judge?
I’m that girl. Yeah, the one who will walk up next to you in the grocery store and strike up a random conversation about the kind of cereal you’re buying. We’ll bond over being boy moms and our kids not listening. I’ll probably say something awkward, and we’ll go our separate ways. But you’ll probably go home and tell your husband about me, and how funny it was that the bags under my eyes still showed through all the concealer and my leggings were clearly on inside out.
I’m gonna be the girl you remember, because if you need me, I’m not going to question it. If you ask for my advice, I’m gonna give it. If you say you want me gone, I’m outtie. If you need me to be your plus one, suit up because I can look pretty decent with a layer of foundation and some cheap lipstick.
I’m that girl. Lively. Real. Raw. Driven. And I’m always going to hug you, help you, and clap for you. I’m going to build you up and push you to chase your dreams. I’m a handful, but I figure that’s why you’ve got two hands.
I don’t have it all together, but I’m stitched together with real good intentions, so that has to count for something. I’m forever going to be this girl, and I don’t change for anyone.”
This story was submitted to Love What Matters by Molly Claypool of Life Unscripted. Follow her journey on Instagram here and her website here. Do you have a similar experience? We’d like to hear your important journey. Submit your own story here. Be sure to subscribe to our free email newsletter for our best stories, and YouTube for our best videos.
Read more stories from Molly here:
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