Three little words. Nothing too notable about them. But it was the way they were delivered that has me replaying a conversation.

I recently ran into someone I've known for a while now at a summer party. She follows me on social, and was aware of my upcoming trip to France. (Honestly, I need to start calling it a “sabbatical” or a “longer-term stay” or something weightier than a “trip” because nearly eight weeks in another country is unlike any other “trip” I’ve taken.)

In fact, she brought it up. “I see you’re going to France.”

And without taking a breath, followed it up with, “must be nice.”

She smirked when she said it. Still, it landed like a small, precise cut.

Because I knew exactly what she meant when she said “must be nice.” Or at least, some version of it.

Must be nice to not have kids.

Must be nice to have the money.

Must be nice to have basically retired from a “real” career so that you can coach and lead retreats in Paris.

A few days later, I was at the dentist. My hygienist was on vacation…ironically, traveling in Europe. So a different hygienist — a middle-aged woman I'd never met — cleaned my teeth. In between the tartar scraping, the warm water rinsing, and the saliva sucking, she asked what I did for work. I told her all about the coaching, the retreats, the podcast.

Then I mentioned going to language school in Bordeaux, and hosting a retreat in Paris. Her eyes widened, and she blurted out: "Oh my God! That sounds incredible!"

"There is actually still a spot available for the retreat," I said. She laughed and shook her head. "Oh, no. I could never do anything like that. I just don't have the time."

Two women. Two totally different reactions to the exact same information. As it turns out, neither reaction was actually about me.

And here’s the part I’ve been thinking about. A lot.

When you tell a woman you're going after something you want, she'll do one of two things.

She'll get curious. Excited, even. She'll ask you questions, want all the details. Maybe even quietly file it away as huh, so that's possible.

Or…she'll reach for every reason it couldn't work for her: no time, no money, wrong season of life, too selfish, too late. All before she's even let herself want it in the first place. Like she has to shut down the idea before it has time to grow into possibility.

I don't think either woman’s reaction is bad. Instead, they’re telling. One woman has allowed herself a little more permission than the other. And permission, it turns out, is not the same thing as circumstance.

The hygienist doesn't have less time than I do. I don't have some magic surplus of hours she's missing out on.

What I have is a decade of practice at not talking myself out of something or writing it off as unrealistic…before I even let myself want it.

That's it. That's the whole difference. It’s not money, not luck, not an empty nest. It’s simply practice.

And the same goes for my friend at the party. Except that her flippant response probably means that she hasn’t even allowed herself permission to be inspired. She’s still living into the narrative that a woman’s worth is determined by what she does for others. That self-sacrifice is good and noble. And wanting something for herself is selfish.

So here's my ask of you this week, Reader. And it's not really about France. (Well, maybe it is metaphorically.)

The next time you hear about something another woman is doing — a trip, a career change, a decision that looks a little bold from the outside — notice your first reaction.

Not the reaction you say out loud. Or the one that you've had time to edit. Or the one after your logical thinking brain has created a list of reasons why that’s not for you.

But your first reaction. Is it “I want something like that” OR is it “must be nice”?

Because your first reaction is telling you something. And in case you haven’t realized it, whatever it’s telling you is not about her.

xx, Laurie

P.S. Almost your last chance to grab a Best Life Planner! Remember to place your order by Monday, September 21. Orders received after that will ship November 10, when I'm back from France.