My Wife Is A Goddess, And So Are You

My wife is a goddess, she just doesn’t realize it. But she is. Because you all are goddesses, and I don’t think you realize it, either. But you are.

You don’t know it, but you’re beautiful even at six in the morning when you’re rushing out the door to work trying to find the perfect heel to match the third outfit you just swapped from the closet. You’re beautiful.

You don’t know it, but you’re beautiful even when you’re annoyed at us for leaving clothes all over the floor or the seat up in the bathroom and you give us that disapproving squint. You’re beautiful.

You don’t know it, but you’re beautiful even when you’re slinging pancakes and cutting crusts and making brown bag lunches like a line cook at Denny’s. You’re beautiful.

You don’t know it, but you’re beautiful even when it’s late at night and you’re balancing a glass of wine with the laptop open in front of you, your teacher glasses on, sending out one final work email for the day. You’re beautiful.

You don’t know it, but you’re beautiful even with the stretch marks you obsess over, hidden behind the Spanx and the bodysuits. You’re beautiful.

You don’t know it, but you’re beautiful even with the stray gray hairs peeking out of your roots that the hair stylist covers in highlights at the salon. You’re beautiful.

You don’t know it, but you’re beautiful even when you’re tucking the kids into bed for the night with a kiss and a hug and they shower you with love and the glimmer in their eyes that says YOU are their mom, forever. You’re beautiful.

Sometimes I have to pinch myself to believe it… she picked ME. How did it happen? ME. The goddess picked me. And she grabs her stuff and heads out the door for the day and we give each other a kiss and I can’t believe it. I’m the luckiest guy in the world. We’re the luckiest guys in the world.

You ladies are goddesses.

Don’t forget it.