The Perfect Woman

 I see her on Instagram mostly -

This perfectly coiffed woman

With her perfectly carved out life.

She talks about her perfectly hard days

Trying to point out that she is just like me 

She, too, struggles with it all sometimes. 

But I don't believe her 

Because the only thing she shows me 

Is her perfectly neat and tidy home 

And on her perfectly spotless kitchen table  

Is the perfectly curated flower bouquet

That she hand-picked from her perfectly quaint flower garden

That sits alongside of her perfectly thought out garden

That is growing the most perfect vegetables

That she will use to make the most perfect dinners -

from scratch, of course. 

She displays photos of her perfectly dirty kids

Who have been outside in the land she and her husband own

Playing with their perfect non-toxic Waldorf inspired toys

I look at my own life only see imperfections

Because I do not smile through all of my days

Knowing for sure that my main purpose in life is to create a home

And nothing more

I look at my own life and see all of the cracks 

And all of the places I question

The places where she does not because she just perfectly knows

That all is well and good in her perfect life

And that she never questions

But then the soft whisper of Knowing 

That lives within us all

Reminds me that she chooses which moments to place before me

On an app designed to show only a moment in time

And that her life, too, is full of all of things mine is

She just chooses not to show it. 

The grass is never greener - 

Even if it appears it is