IRL

“I’m going to the bakery. Would you like anything?” I asked.

“You’re going out like that? You look homeless,” he said.

No, I thought.

It’s nearly 11:00 am.

I look like a woman who has changed a diaper, had a coffee, tended to emails.

I look like a woman with a Ph.D.

I look like a woman who preps her university lectures and graded a few assignments all before noon.

I look like a woman who produces a podcast, just having scheduled a guest, and researched more material.

And those spots of food on my sweatshirt? Those are badges of honor.

They are the signature of precious tiny hands reaching for me after having been nourished. They are evidence of my response to an embrace from a beautiful little blessing. I go by the name “mama.”

I look like a woman who didn’t prioritize fashion on a Tuesday morning because more important tasks await.

I look like a woman who provides, nurtures, and works.

I look like a woman comfortable in her own skin.

I look like a woman who invests her energy in ideas and creative endeavors.

I don’t look Instagram ready.

I look like a woman with ambition.

“So, did you want the usual from the baker or…”