I love my life. Overall I’m a very happy person. I have a beautiful family. I’m pretty happy with myself. But when Beyoncé posts new Instagram pics I find myself filled with this sense of awe and wonder and stone cold jealously. She is the only celebrity who makes me feel this way.
It’s not just the fact she is amazingly talented and gorgeous. It’s not just the fact she has this super cute daughter and my baby making days are over. It’s not that she is promoting feminism and all these girl-power ideals which are making me love her even more. It’s not even that she is constantly posting photographs of herself and Jay and Blue that make them seem like the world’s most blessed and happy and magical couple. It’s this deadly combo of all of the above.
I’m never going to look like Beyoncé. I’m never going to be as talented as she is. I’m never going to lounge around on tacky yet terribly chic gold-gilded furniture backstage while my precious child plays on an iPhone. And even though we pay the mortgage and I have milk in my refrigerator and I GET that we are blessed my husband will never whisk my family away on a yacht in the south of France. It’s dumb to idolize and fawn over celebrities. Logically I understand this. But I can’t be the only mom out there who sees snaps like these and feels this dreaded sense of jealousy.
I never felt this way about celebrities growing up. I never idolized anyone to the extent I wanted their life. And I’m sure being Mrs. Carter has its drawbacks and all of that. I’m sure she fights with her husband and has days where her hair looks dumb and eats a disappointing meal on occasion and sometimes Blue cries and she gets frustrated just like the rest of us. But then she looks like this and Tom Ford probably calls her on the phone for a playdate.
I love seeing these pics because I’m a fan of Beyoncé and Jay Z and yeah, all the happiness to them and their beautiful daughter but I can’t be the only one who compares my life to theirs and feels all my frumpiness come to the surface.
My coffee is cold and my T-shirt has a small tear in the hem and I can’t get this one dog puke stain off the carpet on my staircase landing.
Plus, I have Beyoncéalousy.