This old post was suggested by my sistah Beth:
Thursday, June 24, 2010
I am awesome.
Labels: by Jacquie
You know the glance you get when someone is clearly checking you out? When I was hotter younger, I generally took it as a compliment when someone’s eyes cast up and down my bod, even in the middle of a conversation. I’d tell myself: “I must look great, s/he can’t even help looking me over!”
It’s different now. Just a few minutes ago, I was having a perfectly normal conversation with another adult in my workplace when she clearly checked me out. Now perhaps in a different setting I might wonder if she was checking her gay-dar to see which team I played for; and I’d take it as a compliment. But this was work, and this person is clearly not interested in me that way (not that there’s anything wrong with that).
I had a total nervous breakdown, deep down inside where it counts. Is my stomach sticking out, is she wondering if I’m pregnant? God, why did I eat that second enchilada? Is my shirt riding low and revealing my scar? Did I shave my legs? Is my fly unzipped? Are these shoes too young for me?
The upward glance is just as bad – my roots must look awful, did I forget to pluck something? Is she is wondering why I've worn a ponytail for the last 5 days in a row? She can tell that my hair is a greasy mess, or she can see my dandruff.
It occurs to me how significant it is that I no longer assume that I’m hot when someone checks me out! That is such bullshit. I’m in the best shape of my life, and while my hair could always use a little work, it’s mostly presentable.
I am going to start doing daily affirmations to reverse this disturbing phenomenon. I am totally meeting the gaze of my own eyes in the reflection of my monitor right now, and I’m saying this out loud. Ignore the snickering of my family. They have low self esteem. Not me:
I am hot!
The sit ups are working!
My hair looks fabulous!
I don’t need a boob job!
Those laugh lines give my face character!
My breath smells great!
I am awesome!
There. Now go knock ‘em dead.
It’s different now. Just a few minutes ago, I was having a perfectly normal conversation with another adult in my workplace when she clearly checked me out. Now perhaps in a different setting I might wonder if she was checking her gay-dar to see which team I played for; and I’d take it as a compliment. But this was work, and this person is clearly not interested in me that way (not that there’s anything wrong with that).
I had a total nervous breakdown, deep down inside where it counts. Is my stomach sticking out, is she wondering if I’m pregnant? God, why did I eat that second enchilada? Is my shirt riding low and revealing my scar? Did I shave my legs? Is my fly unzipped? Are these shoes too young for me?
The upward glance is just as bad – my roots must look awful, did I forget to pluck something? Is she is wondering why I've worn a ponytail for the last 5 days in a row? She can tell that my hair is a greasy mess, or she can see my dandruff.
It occurs to me how significant it is that I no longer assume that I’m hot when someone checks me out! That is such bullshit. I’m in the best shape of my life, and while my hair could always use a little work, it’s mostly presentable.
I am going to start doing daily affirmations to reverse this disturbing phenomenon. I am totally meeting the gaze of my own eyes in the reflection of my monitor right now, and I’m saying this out loud. Ignore the snickering of my family. They have low self esteem. Not me:
I am hot!
The sit ups are working!
My hair looks fabulous!
I don’t need a boob job!
Those laugh lines give my face character!
My breath smells great!
I am awesome!
There. Now go knock ‘em dead.
3 comments:
Oh mi cara, you are not complaining -- anything but. I'm here to tell you you're having a ball in Italia with our mama-mia. I can't wait to hear *every* dete when you get back.
Ti amo.
Ellie
I do get such a kick out of this post! It's spot on. You are awesome:-)
As I'm quite sure Italy is too.
As Ellie does, I look forward to every detail!
Xo,
Beth
I just reread this and this is my favorite part:
Ignore the snickering of my family. They have low self esteem. Not me.
I'm so eager to have you back, but I want your trip to never end.
Amo, cara.
xxx
E
Post a Comment