My Why Can't I Just Be Her Attitude

I spent the last few hours mingling with the fashionably-clad, philanthropic National Black Arts Festival crowd applauding my fave Elite models as they strut their Saks Fifth Avenue frocks down the runway.

I Loove fashion shows, and I've worked my butt off to get press passes, backstage passes and eventually, invitations. I've stood on the sidelines, I've snapped picture after picture, chatted with the beautiful and fabulous and absolutely loved it.

I'm rarely the jealous type. Years of therapy, life coaching and self-empowerment workshops have taught me better. But tonight I couldn't help but wonder if I am ever going to be like any of the women I saw strut their stuff.

Will I ever be like Sandra Anderson Baccus, who has been the honorary chair of the National Black Arts Festival for the last 10 years, has single-handedly supported the Fine Art + Fashion event as well as the emerging young artist awards? Or like Holli Hines Easton, co-chair and VP of Origen Partners and active in causes like V-Day, March of Dimes, Men Stopping Violence?

I remember hearing Candice Bushnell, fabulous and talented social scene queen and author of Sex and the City, say at a book signing at Margaret Mitchell House "I lived many years in a tiny apartment in the villiage with only one fork--which I had stolen--and my mattress on the floor."

Well, I have my own apartment in Va-Hi, with all my own dishes and even a headboard, so I know I'm doing alright. But what got to me the most was my why can't I just be her? attitude. 

I spent YEARS hating my hair color, my eye color, my muscular quads, my bulky lats and my small hands, wishing I could be like every other ballerina with skinny legs, twig fingers and blonde hair. And it took years of therapy to undo all that brainwashing. But now I'm right back where I started-- this time wishing my professional successes and philanthropic endeavors were as fantastic as my social scene peers.

It just makes me wonder, am I ever going to love just being me?