Dear Angelina Jolie;
You must have some kind of powerful inner strength just to get out of bed in the morning. Every time I am at the grocery store, I see a picture of you or your kids or your life partner on the cover of some magazine. One week it’s all, “We love her!” and the next week it’s all, “She’s a fake!” One week it’s, “Angelina loves all the children of the world!” and the next it’s, “But she feeds them Cheetos and that makes her EVIL!”
How do you do it?
Sure, I know you’ve got those impossibly cute kids and a mansion ten times the size of my house. You’ve got nannies and a chef and millions of dollars. You’ve got sex appeal and a killer wardrobe and a handsome-if-childish life partner. You’ve got film work for fun, and humanitarian work for self-esteem.
But Jesus, I cannot imagine what my life would be like if I had to worry about someone watching my mothering skills every single second of every single day. Sometimes I lose it, and I snap at the kids. Sometimes I am tired so I let them have cereal for dinner. Sometimes I’m not quite done my blog post for the day so I let them watch an extra episode of Caillou.
Sure, sometimes I take them to the park or play games with them or help them with their homework. But you’d never see that on the cover of a magazine, if I were famous. No, they’d only be interested in publishing that one time, ONE TIME, I spun around too quickly and knocked Little Miss Sunshine over with my backpack. ONE TIME, people.
And heaven forbid my husband come home late one night, or casually say hi to another woman at a party, or go on a work trip. No breaks from routine in any way! ANY WAY! Otherwise, it’s certain doom for your marriage. How do you learn to ignore those kind of rumours? How do you stop your mind from letting in even the tiniest, weeniest, sliver of doubt?
My life as a mother and wife could not possibly handle that degree of scrutiny.
No matter how much money or fame or beauty I had.
You can keep your life — I’m happy over here.
(But if you have any hand-me-downs for me or the kids, I’d be happy to accept them.)
All the best,