Sunday, February 05, 2006
Affirmations
I'm pretty.
I'm sexy.
I'm not saying these things because I'm vain. Quite the contrary. I'm saying them because I'm trying to convince myself that they are true.
I'm saying them to counteract the self-hatred I feel. I'm saying them to counter-act the messages my mother has given me throughout my life:
"Your ankles are too big."
"You're too skinny."
"It looks like you've gained some weight [said with disapproval despite the former comment]."
"Pull your bangs down. Hide your forehead [implication: it is ugly]."
"Do you have to wear your hair like that?"
"Why do you always wear so much black?"
"The hair on your legs is disgusting." (Yes, I still alternate between waxing every hair off of my body from the neck down and letting it all grow out. This would be the grown out period she is referring to.)
I am pretty.
I am sexy.
And I so desperately want to believe that.
Two days ago, I took a cab from work to meet some friends. As I stepped into the cab, I said, "Perfect timing! Thank you so much for stopping."
The cab driver said, "Anytime - for a beauty like you."
I felt incredibly uncomfortable, hearing his comment, and yet I was starved for his words.
About halfway to my destination, the cab driver commented again, "You are so beautiful. I'm going to take you to Greece in October. Seriously."
Okay, why can't I get a simple, "You are beautiful." Why can't the men I meet leave it with that? You may recall my recent story about the waiter who wanted a girlfriend like me. What is it about me that is attracting these men who are so over-the-top?
Perhaps I know what it is... The cab driver rushed to my door to open it for me, but I'd already let myself out. He berated me a little, almost whining, for my not letting him get the door for me. He got back into the cab as I walked away, but then rolled down his window to call for me. I was so flustered with being late and by our interactions, I thought perhaps I'd left something in his car. Instead, he reached through the window to hand me his card. His eyes looked at me with a desperate hunger, "Please call me. I absolutely must see those beautiful eyes again."
I half-smiled as I took his card, mostly out of amusement with myself. I was so desperate for flattery, I was willing to trust anyone and doubt myself in the process ("I must have left something in his cab, right?"). [sigh]
I am beautiful.
I am sexy.
And no one else needs to tell me that in order for me to believe it.
I am beautiful.
I am sexy.
I'm sexy.
I'm not saying these things because I'm vain. Quite the contrary. I'm saying them because I'm trying to convince myself that they are true.
I'm saying them to counteract the self-hatred I feel. I'm saying them to counter-act the messages my mother has given me throughout my life:
"Your ankles are too big."
"You're too skinny."
"It looks like you've gained some weight [said with disapproval despite the former comment]."
"Pull your bangs down. Hide your forehead [implication: it is ugly]."
"Do you have to wear your hair like that?"
"Why do you always wear so much black?"
"The hair on your legs is disgusting." (Yes, I still alternate between waxing every hair off of my body from the neck down and letting it all grow out. This would be the grown out period she is referring to.)
I am pretty.
I am sexy.
And I so desperately want to believe that.
Two days ago, I took a cab from work to meet some friends. As I stepped into the cab, I said, "Perfect timing! Thank you so much for stopping."
The cab driver said, "Anytime - for a beauty like you."
I felt incredibly uncomfortable, hearing his comment, and yet I was starved for his words.
About halfway to my destination, the cab driver commented again, "You are so beautiful. I'm going to take you to Greece in October. Seriously."
Okay, why can't I get a simple, "You are beautiful." Why can't the men I meet leave it with that? You may recall my recent story about the waiter who wanted a girlfriend like me. What is it about me that is attracting these men who are so over-the-top?
Perhaps I know what it is... The cab driver rushed to my door to open it for me, but I'd already let myself out. He berated me a little, almost whining, for my not letting him get the door for me. He got back into the cab as I walked away, but then rolled down his window to call for me. I was so flustered with being late and by our interactions, I thought perhaps I'd left something in his car. Instead, he reached through the window to hand me his card. His eyes looked at me with a desperate hunger, "Please call me. I absolutely must see those beautiful eyes again."
I half-smiled as I took his card, mostly out of amusement with myself. I was so desperate for flattery, I was willing to trust anyone and doubt myself in the process ("I must have left something in his cab, right?"). [sigh]
I am beautiful.
I am sexy.
And no one else needs to tell me that in order for me to believe it.
I am beautiful.
I am sexy.
Comments:
When I leave work at night, the guy at the front desk, an elderly Black gent, always says, "Good night, Beauty," and it always makes me feel warm inside. It sounds a bit like a horse's name, lol, but I still enjoy it. As for the cab, I've had that happen so, so many times in cabs,and it is upsetting.
beauty,
the blending of outward and inward commentary
it is never ending, the quest to believe one set of words and not others
it is playing games with ourselves when we know the rules.
post it notes got me through 1997.
"
you are beautiful" stuck to 100 places,
where ever I turned I have to face it.
the blending of outward and inward commentary
it is never ending, the quest to believe one set of words and not others
it is playing games with ourselves when we know the rules.
post it notes got me through 1997.
"
you are beautiful" stuck to 100 places,
where ever I turned I have to face it.
Jenny-Maybe that cab driver was a recent NYC transplant. ;-)
Bethanie-What a great idea - the post it notes! Sounds like it helped?
Bethanie-What a great idea - the post it notes! Sounds like it helped?
i think it's great getting compliments although yes it was over the top. still they remind you of something that you sometimes forget. i believe we are all beautiful :)
I agree, Lorena, we are all beautiful. I've actually had two more strangers in the last week tell me that I'm beautiful. I'm starting to suspect that the universe knows that I'm feeling insecure and wanting reassurance. ;-)
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