COMPARE

Woman, by nature, can not help but to size each other up according to physical appearance and demeanor.  It's just innate.  We don't even realize we are doing it.  It's not always malicious in nature.  More often, for me at least, it's purely a tool to learn what I can about a person.
A few days ago I had my eight month old, Hanson, at the pediatrician's office with a nasty cough.  While we were waiting, a woman walked in with a girl I can only assume was her daughter, who I'd guess was about 11.  They did not speak, except for when Mom told Daughter, "I'm going to the bathroom, you will stay here and if they call you back, well, I be there when I get done."
Daughter sat down and immediately pulled out her Ipod Touch and began texting/gaming/whatever.
When Mom returned, I noticed her pretty greenish blue blazer.  She was average height and weight, and had longish curly hair.  She didn't look at or speak to her child.
She was wearing three pairs of earrings on each ear, and I counted a minimum of five necklaces, which normally would seem a little excessive, but for some reason she sort of pulled it off.  She was reading the latest issue of "Ladies Home Journal", and on the cover it said "Beat Belly Fat" right next to a photo of a mountain of desserts.  Mixed signals indeed.
Each wrist had a myriad of bracelets with various charms and things.  She was wearing jeans.
Her cell phone rang, and she answered it, telling someone that she'd left them a check for this week and next week on the counter...don't worry about washing the whites, and could they clean up the upstairs bathroom.
She has a cleaning person and two bathrooms.
This whole time I'm sitting there, with my ponytail and one necklace, wearing a cute tank top and bolero sweater that my little darling had just wiped his snot on, feeling cray insufficient in the accessory department. I was also exhausted, nauseaus, and had a headached the size of Texas coming on, but still surprisingly chipper. I thought about my disaster of a living room and the fact that my one bathroom looked like Toys R Us had exploded in it.
I felt bare compared to her.  I played with Hanson, and eventually my gaze made its way to her shoes. 
And that is when I felt sweet victory.

With all that silver sparkle around her face and hands, this poor woman had utterly neglected her feet. 
She was wearing what I can only describe as Mom clogs!  I could not believe my eyes.
I looked down at my own shoes: Vera Wang peep-toe sandals with a four inch heel.
Considering my nausea and headache I'd been thinking they were a poor choice, but those shoes in combination with my pedicure was an immediate ego boost beyond imagination.
But you know what?  It really doesn't matter what jewelry or clothing this other woman had. 
If she were wearing rags it wouldn't have made my outfit any better.
I didn't feel better about my efforts because of what she was wearing.  I felt better because of MY shoes and MY pedicure.  My self value does not come from others.  It comes from knowing I'm true to myself and comfortable with who I am.  I might not always be a hundred percent happy about my wardrobe or waistline or hairstyle, but on those days I can just put on my new favorite shoes and be happy.  Just look at Cinderella...proof that a new pair of shoes can change your life.