Yesterday I had a small breakdown over my firm's insistence that all attorneys put their photos on our new website. Let me tell you something- I look like a gimp-eyed, cantalope faced, stroke victim in photos so I have been begging them to let me skip the stupid picture portion or, at a minimum, put up a picture of Vanessa Williams as my representative to the world.
Alas, they have shut me down, having zero compassion for my mental health issues. I even told them I would have a bulima relapse and be found on the cold ceramic tile of my bathroom floor, dead from voracious vomitting. (though I would not be found naked as all famous dead people seem to be) My cries for mercy have fallen on deaf ears. Damn them all to hell.
In discussing my distress with some friends we uncovered I have a bit of a self-loathing problem. I've always thought I liked myself "overall", though there are always things about me that make me unhappy. When I was really put on the spot I had to admit that I don't love myself....at all. I can always find a reason why I'm really an unlikeable charater- I'm too chubby, too short-tempered with my daughter, too lazy to bathe my baby everyday so he get's a whore's bath, too gossipy, too passive agressive with my husband, and just too me all together.
Not only do I run screaming from photogs, but I refuse to do nice things for myself. Even when I have a fabulous spa gift certificate I will sit on it for months, years! I hang onto it thinking in the future I'll feel better about myself and then I'll use the gift certificate to celebrate.
I'm one of those women that goes six months between haircuts or hot glues a shoe back together instead of buying a new pair (seriously). I have two bras that I alternate and when the underwire starts poking me I just yank it out. That's right, I walk around with one boob lifted and one boob let down. Why? Because I won't go buy a freaking bra- don't want to spend the time shopping for just me nor do I want to spend the money. Crikey.
To take the self-hate to another level let me share that I love manicures, pedicures, facials, and pretty much any spa treatment, but I won't treat myself because I feel sorry for the person having to rub on me. I fear they're thinking "troll feet" or worse.
This is not who I started out to be, but somewhere along the way I stopped doing things for myself and focused all my energies on others. This is probably pretty typical behavior for a mom- passing on one's own needs to take care of children, husband, job, house, friends, and family. Who has time for a manicure between office work and mommy work!?
However, limited time is just one of my issues and I'd be lying to you if I falied to confess that I don't do for myself because I think all upgrades are just lipstick on a pig. A nice bag or nice pair of shoes makes me feel like a dowdy den mother who stole from someone a lot cooler. Think Mrs. Garrett raiding Blair's closet on Facts of Life.
So, to recap what the hay is wrong with me:
1) I don't like to taking time out from serving others;
2) I'm always waiting for me to be "better" before I'll do something nice for myself; and
3) When I try for better I feel like Natalie in Tootie's roller skates (another Facts of Life analogy)
So once my friends identified the above issues they tried to counsel me about loving myself, but this is no easy task since I'm a tad stubborn and find it difficult to shift my frame of mind.
But yesterday my dear friends persisted and actually made a dent in my psyche, convincing me I need to stop hating on myself and start loving on myself. It's hard for me to take time out for me or spend money on me, but I'm determined to make an effort to do the kinds of things that restore a woman's soul- like getting a pedicure or buying a new racy red lipstick. Though, I'm not ready to do as my friend suggested and look in the mirror while nude then pronounce myself "HOT." It'd take a whole lot of drugs to make that happen or a sever head injury.
But, I must confess that I did buy myself a lovely purse today and next week I'm going blonder and getting my nails done. All thanks to a friend forcing me at gun point to pick up the phone and make an appointment, then steadyding me as I maneuvered through the mall on a "just for me" shopping mission. If a friend can love me that much then surely I'm worth loving.