It’s like we’re twins:

• We live on the same street

• We both have a son & daughter between the ages of 7 – 9

• We’re in our early 40s (that’s code for she’s 40 and I’m 41)

• We both have blogs

• We like to talk about the food we make for our kids

• We’re “career moms”

Or not.

• She just published a second cookbook. I have 7 drafts of an unpublished manuscript in my living room armoire.

• She sings on stage in leather pants. I sing in my bedroom in my underpants.

• She works out 5 days a week. I talk about working out at least 3 days a week.

• Her blog had 49,000 visitors in March. Mine had 204.

• She has a successful “Styled Just for Gwyneth” line of products from top designers. I just mis-hired my second front-end coder.

• She has endless travel, cooking and lifestyle tips. I don’t leave the canyon, I wear my sweats most days at the office and when I say “sweats”, I really mean my pajamas.

• When she needs a cooking lesson, she brings in a celebrity chef. When I need a cooking lesson, I call out for pizza. Again.

• She’s a size a 0, she’s never photographed in the same outfit twice, when she walks around without makeup, it’s called “natural beauty”, she appears to have found the secret to balancing career and family (while working out 5 times a week!?), her predilection for short shorts (and sheer skirts) might cause a murmur but it’s not because she looks like crap, she does look better now at 40 than she did at 20, she’s achieving on her ambition, and she’s weirdly poised to become the next Martha Stewart, just sexier. I… Oh, let’s stop pretending. She might live down the street but other than our appreciation for old sycamore trees, we’re not going to be sharing a bundt cake anytime soon.

Oh, envy is such an unattractive emotion. Especially, amongst women.

I hate you Gwyneth. And I hate myself for hating you.

I’m sorry for all my terrible, snarky thoughts.

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