Pretty in Pink

I’m at Bella Vita, celebrating my mom’s sixtieth birthday when I see her. She’s a tall, curvy woman who appears to be in her late twenties or early thirties. She certainly stands out with her long, wavy pink hair. She looks beautiful in her matching sleeveless, rose-designed cocktail dress and heels.

It’s easy to tell that she’s the center of the celebration, not only because of her looks, but because of how she’s making it a point to socialize with every single person at the party. Off to the side, there’s another table that has a bunch of gifts on it, all wrapped up in pink. I’m guessing that she’s either having a baby shower or a bridal shower.

As everyone chats over wine, I tell one of my mom’s friends how much I want to compliment the woman. Unlike me, Ginny has no qualms about getting the woman’s attention. Ginny asks the woman what she’s celebrating and the woman confirms that she’s having a bridal shower in a sweet, soft voice. We congratulate and compliment her. She thanks us on both accounts before she turns her attention back to her guests.

For whatever reason, I’m left feeling dissatisfied. Maybe it’s because of how short that interaction was or maybe it’s because I’m jealous. Here I am: a single, unemployed woman in her late twenties, who still lives with her parents and barely has any friends. In comparsion, this woman’s life seems much more fulfilled. She’s clearly taken. She has to have some kind of job. There’s no way she’s still living at home. She has to be living with her soon-to-be husband or wife. The amount of guests at her bridal shower is a testament to how many people are in her corner. Whatever the case may be, I can’t help but think of how lucky her partner is to be with such a nice, beautiful woman.