Yesterday a woman peered into Fable's stroller, looked back at me and said rather casually. "She looks just like you. Your daughter has your eyes."
My ponytail was crooked, I had spilled smoothie between my fingers, my sweatshirt was caked in avocado, and not even my largest pair of sunglasses could hide the constellation of acne on my left cheek.
None of it mattered.
I felt more beautiful in that moment than I ever before in the history of my entire life of living.