“Change the voices in your head, make them like you instead.” -Pink
After writing the post on why women hate, I realized only one thing is worse: self-hate.
Once upon a time, not long enough ago, the voice in my head was critical.cruel.heartless.unforgiving:
You don’t need another roll!
Remember, swim suit season is only three, count ’em, three weeks away!
Go you! SALAD! You rock!
Look at her eating those fries. They look greasy. French fries don’t even taste good. If only she knew it is so not worth it.
You ate that whole dessert? Man, you are stuffed. Just coffee for breakfast tomorrow.
Oh, and my personal favorite,
Just a couple more pounds, and…
Then, one day, God, the fates, and unadorned mercy came along to attack that voice-to drag it out into the sunlight and YELL at it, without forgiveness:
What is wrong with YOU? Fries are good, right? I don’t remember. OMG. I don’t even know.
A couple more pounds-then what? Longer, straighter hair? Shinier skin? A couple pounds more after that?
Life started. Yesterday. Get on the boat. You are missing out.
Why, why, why, why do you hate me?
Then, after the initial attacks, I tried diplomacy with the voice:
Hey, voice, listen, this is me. You are me. We are in this together, dude. So please, please, shut it. Now. Right now. And let’s have some ice cream, pretty lady.
It does not matter what Sally, Joe or Mona think of you. What you think of me matters. You are me. Help me. Don’t hurt me.
Slowly, with a little help from my friends (cupcakes, ice cream, good real pizza, love, fashionable clothes, physical activity, and sleep, oh blissful blissful sleep), the voice?
It changed. Mini battles ensued.
It’s 11:30 p.m. why are you eating? I’m hungry. DUH. Are you stupid?
And, over months, the cruel.heartless.unforgiving.hateyoualways voice grew weaker and the kind.gentle.loving.youarebeautiful voice began to win.
I never even knew you could train that voice-or that you should, and had to. Now, when I am full the voice says yum. So worth it. Let’s walk, or not. SO.MUCH.BETTER.
But, you know the best part? It’s not the ice cream, or even the chocolate, God’s own food chocolate, or even the good, real pizza, it was the day the good voice said to me as I ate a bowl of ice cream, man, this ice cream is freaking rock my socks off good, and you, pretty lady, you are beautiful.