Judge not, lest ye fall into a self-hate spiral

In my little bubble of friends I can be me. They don’t judge me for drinking and telling them not to judge me. They accept my dorky sense of humor. They believe I am witty, even when I am just ridiculous, or so they say. They cheer me on when I lose weight and they tell me I am gorgeous even when I feel fat. I’m lucky. I’m blessed. I have a network of wonderful friends that builds me up every damn chance they get. They are so great at being supportive that I even believe them.

I feel pretty, witty, competent, intelligent, and most of all, worthy. I say this, because I want one thing clear, I have decent self-esteem.

So why then, am I a big ball of anxiety about having to meet Captain America’s friend’s wives? Not friends mind you, I am not worried about them, but friend’s wives. Seriously, I have been on the verge of tears all week because I am going to meet these girls on Friday. I wanted to bawl in the middle of Kohl’s because I couldn’t find any clothes that made me look great without looking like I was trying to look great. I spent a good fifteen minutes staring at my butt and the backs of my legs willing them to change before my very eyes.

Unsuccessfully mind you.

I bought a pair of shorts with the thought of, “If I tan enough maybe my cellulite won’t show.” How is it that a girl with decent self esteem can be completely overwhelmed by the thought of meeting other women? You note that it isn’t me, or my friends, or my guy, or even my guy’s friend’s opinions that I am  ready to cry over; but a group of unknown women. Women whom Captain America has assured me multiple times that their opinions don’t matter one lick to him. I am completely primed to cry over the thought of being judged imperfect by people who actually don’t affect me in any way.

Me. The girl who can pick up an entire bar full of guys without a problem. Me. The girl that doesn’t believe in appearance enough to even wear make up to work most days. Me. The girl that has this wonderful support network. Me. The girl ready to break down in the dressing room because I will never have thin calves or cellulite free thighs (maybe I could, but even in undergrad when you could see every rib and my thighs were fantastically toned I still had it, so I seriously doubt it).

I read an article today, http://www.rolereboot.org/life/details/2013-06-when-your-mother-says-shes-fat, the writer makes a very good point talking about those that have passed away. “I sometimes think about what these friends—and the people who love them—wouldn’t give for more time in a body that was healthy. A body that would allow them to live just a little longer. The size of that body’s thighs or the lines on its face wouldn’t matter. It would be alive and therefore it would be perfect.” Talk about perspective.

So, why exactly am I tanning myself into an early grave over a few bumps? Why am I worried over what strangers may think when I know that my loved ones would rather have me pale and bumpy than not at all? In short, where in the F has my head been at?

A few weeks ago I went to a concert and in an attempt to make conversation I joined in with the girls I was with during the hardcore judging of those around us. It was toxic. I have never been one to judge on appearance, but after finding flaws in others for about two hours all I can see in myself are my own flaws.

I don’t have the legs for shorts…

                I don’t have the calves for boots…

                                I don’t have the arms for tank tops…

                                                I don’t do my hair or make-up well…

                                                                My friends would let me out of the house wearing that too…

What in the seven hells is wrong with me? How can two hours hurt my psyche so much? I guess there was something else to that whole, “judge not lest ye be judged” thing. Who knew it applied here too? The worst part is, it isn't even being judged by others, my judging others led to me judging myself. In short, the more judge-y I got about others the lower my own self worth fell.

I do have a great smile.

                I do have good legs.

                                I do have good arms.

WTF is that internal voice talking about? Where does that voice even come from? It’s a liar. Tell that voice to sit and spin.

I am attractive, both mentally and physically.

                I am worthy of conversation and attention.

                                I am a fantastic freaking human being.

                     

    And so are you.

Look up and smile. Shine your light into the world. We all want to see it.