She has something to say on almost every subject and it’s usually negative. She actually tells me to my face that I look fat and hideous. If I just dress in my day-to-day clothes and tidy my hair, she says I can’t go out looking like that. If I make a real effort, she tells me I look ridiculous and people will laugh at me, a try-hard, mutton dressed as lamb, that kind of thing.
She never lets up about my hair. It’s never good enough, never neat enough, never smooth enough. At social events she’s been there and reported that everybody else seems to know best how to dress and I’ve got it wrong – again.
When I was younger, she’d say I looked tarty, cheap or I had no idea how to dress. She criticises my make-up. Too little and she thinks I just look like a corpse, too much and I look like a clown.
She doesn’t restrict herself to my body, clothes, face and hair either. She’s been known to weigh-in with her ideas on my capabilities, career, social-life, love-life and well… everything.
She’s the one who plants insidious little thoughts in my head about not being good enough. She has intimated that nobody really loves me; that my Mum prefers my siblings; that my boyfriend would rather be with just about any other woman than me and only stays cus he feels sorry for me; that the people I work with or for don’t think I’m any good at what I do, or if they do now, they’ll find out that I’m not in due course.
She has also suggested that being social, as I am, is probably not a good idea. I can go somewhere and talk to people and she’ll say that they thought I was weird and they’re laughing at me behind my back. If I get a word wrong, or stumble, she rolls her eyes.
She’s the one who greeted me with a pitying and scornful grimace on those days when I used to go out and get drunk, her expression saying ‘Oh god, what did you do now? Can you even remember? You won’t be able to look those people in the face again for a good, long time’.
Course, she isn’t there all the time. Sometimes I manage to go out not feeling shitty about myself. Equally, I spend time with friends or my boyfriend, or my family without hearing from her even once. Those times are good.
Strangely, she has nothing at all to say about my Second Life, aside from that I probably shouldn’t be doing it at all, that there are better uses of my time than playing pixel dollies. But she has nothing bad to say about Meri, most of the time.
I wish she’d leave me alone. I feel bullied and sad. I try to laugh it off but it sticks, you know?
She’s a nasty, evil bitch.
I’m thinking many of you (certainly many women I know of) will be able to relate to the constant voice in your head telling you all these things, sucking away at your confidence, being your un-friend, your un-supporter. I promise you that every woman you see, no matter how perfect she appears (and maybe even moreso in the ones who do seem perfect) hears this voice in her head. It’s a rare woman who sees herself without criticism. I’m not so sure about guys, I’d love to hear from some men on their perspective.
*Edit: And OH OH OH! It’s certainly worth saying that I’d never dream of saying any of the nasty things I say to myself to any woman I know, be she my best friend or worst enemy. Never ever. Maybe that can be used to help when I’m being hard on myself.
I don’t want to be like this any more. I want to be happy with myself, imperfect as I am. I have been listening to Lizzo! That girl has some amazing ideas on loving yourself unapologetically and without restraint. She suggests you look at yourself in the mirror each day and say ‘You’re the one’. And try to mean it. Do it each day until you do mean it.
So, if you feel like I do sometimes/all the time/occasionally – go listen to Lizzo… I’m not even kidding! Just do it. Hey, I’ll start you off, cus I’m that fabulous… and who doesn’t need the input of an artist reminiscent of Neneh Cherry, Chaka Khan and Aretha Franklin all rolled into one?
What ARE you wearing?
Visit – Tonarino