She’s A Better Hilary

I’m a pretty confident person. I don’t think I’m cocky; however, I started a blog, so I have to be feeling okay about myself. We can talk about blogging and narcissism another time though.

Right now I want to talk about when my self-confidence is shaken. Fun!

Usually, it takes a lot. Growing up with two big brothers (I won’t loop my sister completely into this), I developed a decently thick skin. I won’t shatter from being called a name or a bad hair day (unless it’s a bad haircut). (Bad haircuts are just the worst.)

Sometimes, though, all it takes to wreck me is a person who is me but a better me. Let me explain.

One of my friends in college, let’s call her Darla, ran into another student named Darla. Now, my friend is pretty darn great, but this Darla was on another level. She was über peppy, had great hair (and skin), and she had about a million friends (a lot of them were mutual friends with my Darla). When the two Darlas met, my friend was overwhelmed meeting this insanely vibrant person. We left, and she had a mini breakdown, during which she said, “She’s a better Darla than I am.”

And thus, a concept is born.

It’s hard when you meet someone who’s like you, but doing it better.

A couple of weeks ago, I went to sing karaoke. (Jill and I did a poorly-received version of “Zombie” by The Cranberries. After which, I said, “Some people just don’t get rock-n-roll.”) I decided to dress up for the night, which is unusual. I had on heels, my pixie was styled, and I put on lipstick dun dun dun. I actually wore lipstick! (I don’t do that. Ever.)

I was feeling good about myself, but that kind of “delicate good” because it’s all so new. You know the one.

We met up with friends at Cafe Habana (our go-to for karaoke), and a young woman was visiting. This woman was everything I am, but she was better at it. She had a freshly cut pixie (which makes all the difference), a brighter red lip, better accessories, better teeth, and was super, mega sweet. I was searching for something I could own, trying for jokes (because that’s what I do), and she one-upped me on the joke front making everyone laugh. The night was over right then. I could go home. There was already a me, and she was doing it better.

That’s all it took to shatter my self-confidence for about twenty minutes (felt off and on over a two-hour period).

Of course, I took to dancing to make the night fun again.

But I couldn’t let go of this woman and how she was a better version of who I am.

Then, we said goodbye, and the better me said, “Oh my goodness.” Yes, she even said that. Had she said, “My stars,” I would have packed my bags immediately.

She said she was watching me dance and trying to copy my moves because they were so hilarious.

And there it was.

Lots of people are worried about someone else being the better version of themselves, but WE DON’T HAVE TO BE.

I guess I just want to say that only you can be the best version of you because there’s only one.

Dr. Suess says it better, “Today you are You, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is Youer than You.”

I’m so glad you’re you, and I hope you are too.

There’s room enough for two pixie cuts in every group. There’s room enough for bold skirts and jokesters and Darla’s and red lips and good teeth and harem pants. There’s always room for harem pants and ridiculous pictures.


Photo Credit: Jillian Denning

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