When a woman looks awesome, I tell her how awesome she looks. There is no way and no need to try to measure how my this-and-that compares with her this-and-that.
It happens all the time.
For a number of years I was very sad, insecure, and extremely thin. When out, it was amazing how insensitive people could be to someone they did not know, about an issue that was none of their business. Their words damaged what little confidence I had.
Time has passed. I am physically healthy. I wish I could say past issues are gone for good, but every once in a while they creep back into my awareness of not being good enough and not measuring up.
Words hurt. Yesterday a woman told me that I was gorgeous, BUT, I should really drink more water for a better complexion, do stomach exercises, and suck in my tummy. She went on about my flaws for a fair amount of time. I said nothing. I drew in each mean word and said nothing.
She was a stranger that I had only met an hour before.
She crushed me.
I am ashamed I sat there and spoke with her any longer after her words; I am angry I didn’t tell her to shove it. I am irritated that at twenty-eight this shit still bothers me.
I am embarrassed that I went home and cried.
And now I am blogging about it, because I cannot let it go.
One person’s words wrecked me yesterday.
My skin has gradually gotten a lot thicker in the last few years. I can deal with the vicissitudes of life a lot better now.
I have always been easily hurt by mean words, a little vulnerable. Maybe that is something that shouldn’t change.
I am not sure I want to become unfeeling or desensitized to meanness. That would imply that it is okay to be unkind. And it’s not.