Small Victory

“I thought you called dibs on him.”

“I did, but you can have him first. After he dumps you, imagine how good I’ll look in comparison.”

“Thanks, that’s not insulting at all.” ~ Cecily White, Prophecy Girl

I saw a photo of her recently.  He sent me a photo of his now three-month old baby.  She was in the photo, holding her precious three month old bundle.
She looked so tired.  And so old.  Inside, I felt a rush of joy.  She looks like a grandmother, and here I am, going to the gym consistently and feeling as youthful as ever, and looking better than when he and I were together.
I looked through old photographs of myself, three months after I had given birth to G.  I looked like a teenager mother.  I smirked to myself that she is actually younger than I was when I gave birth to G. And now, although 8 years younger than I am, she looks about 20 years older.
I always felt like she beat me.  She got him, and she got the baby.  She was living my dream.
The joy of seeing the picture of her looking like a matronly and old mother was a small, shallow, and superficial victory, I know.  But damn it, it felt so good.

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