Say You, Say Me

By regular contributor and ‘zen’ life seeker- Lauren from Quixotic Life!

“Oh my God, fatass! She looks disgusting.”

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“Ugh, who goes out looking like that?”

“Never mind fat, look at that skin, who gets acne in their thirties?”

“And those eyebrows!! Hello Frida Kahlo!!”

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Would you speak about another woman in those terms? Many women do, I know. What about a good friend of yours? Maybe.
Your best friend? Probably not.

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You wouldn’t speak about your best friend in those terms, because you care about her; you love her, you know she’s busy and doesn’t get much time to go to the gym or the beautician, so you give her a break.  Besides, you know that she is more than her appearance, anyway. She’s smart, capable, funny and caring. So what if she’s a little overweight? A few pimples, bah! She’s your best mate, and to you, she’s gorgeous.

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So what if I told you they were comments running through my own head when I looked in the mirror?
Seems more normal now, doesn’t it?

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Why does it seem okay for women to speak so hatefully about themselves? When was the last time you complimented a friend on her appearance, and she replied, “Thanks, I look great, don’t I?” More likely she’ll shrug it off, or seems surprised, or maybe even feel like she has to point out a flaw or two, just to avoid being perceived as too full of herself.

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And while I’m on that subject, why is it so wrong to think we look good?

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We spend countless hours and more money than we probably should on trying to attain and maintain an ideal of not just health and fitness, but flat out looking good, and then feel like we can’t take pride in our appearance. We work our ass off to look good, but when someone compliments us, we downplay it. We don’t want to be seen as ‘having tickets on ourselves’. Is it because we somehow intuitively know that if we respond with “Yes, I look fabulous, don’t I?”, those same women who just complimented us will think we have gotten too big for our boots and start to pull us down and criticise us? Is it a protection mechanism, or are we genuinely focussed on our flaws, rather than our assets?

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We all know one of those women who tries to feel better about herself by criticising others.

I’ll bet you London to a brick, she speaks even worse about her own appearance than she would about another woman’s.
See, that’s what these women don’t realise:  there is a link between feeling like it’s okay to speak negatively about ourselves, and feeling like it’s okay to speak negatively about other women.

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One of my favourite things to do is sit and people-watch. I can spend hours in a cafe, nursing a latte, noticing all the people who pass me by and making up little life stories for them. I also tend to commentate on people’s appearance. These days it is more likely to be in admiration: of a woman’s innate sense of style, or gorgeous skin, great hair etc. But in the past, there was definitely a snarky edge, comments like “Oh, she really shouldn’t wear those low cut jeans, do they even make them in her size?”, or “Really, you’ve never heard of a nose-job?”

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Do you think that seeing people who I thought looked worse than me made me feel better about myself? No, I had the lowest opinion of myself I ever had. This is back before I had a child, and photos from that time show a tall, slim girl, with lovely skin and shiny, curly hair. My memory of that time is of feeling like a fat, ugly giant – awkwardly taller than everyone else, self-conscious about my dimply thighs and lack of a defined jawline, frustrated that the pimples who left me alone all through high-school  were now appearing with a vengeance, you name it, I didn’t like it about myself.

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Then I overheard some co-workers, both male and female, discussing ‘the new temp’. That’d be me. One of the guys called me hot. I smiled, amazed.

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“Really, you don’t think she’s kind of chunky?” I heard one of the girls ask. Smile gone. You might be interested to know this girl was later treated for an eating disorder.
“And what’s with the hair, all frizzy and wild, hasn’t she heard of GHD?” chimed in the other girl.

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“Nah, tall, pretty, long legs, nice ass, what more do you want?” asked my new hero. The other guy was in agreement. Apparently I wasn’t “overdone” like some girls, with too much make up and hard, shiny surfaces. I was soft and real and pretty. Huh.

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I hid in the storeroom til they left the kitchen, and walked back to my desk in a daze. Amazing. So who was right? The girls who though I was fat and plain, or the guys who thought I was hot? It finally dawned on me that maybe it didn’t matter; maybe their comments about me just reflected how they felt about themselves.

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It also made me look at myself in a new light. It may seem shallow that I needed outside validation to finally see myself in a positive light, but that was just the prompt I needed. I already had a good opinion (perhaps even over-inflated!) of myself as a person, I knew I was smart and capable and worthy, I just didn’t feel the same confidence in my appearance. Realising that some people did made me examine my feelings about my looks further.

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As has often happened in my life, the tools I needed were shown to me at the time I needed them. The weekend after this happened, I read an article in the Sunday newspaper supplement about women and body-image and negative self-talk. It spoke about how women who judge others harshly also tend to direct a stream of criticisms towards themselves. It advised me to not only stop criticising others because it is not nice, but because it would help me think and feel better about myself. There were a few books on the subject recommended, so I went and bought them too.

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Afterwards, I decided to make a conscious effort to not speak negatively about anyone, myself included. Damn, that’s hard. When was the last time you peered into the bathroom mirror and thought, “Gosh I’m pretty”? Lucky you if you can think of a time.

It got easier though, as I went on. I would still sit and people-watch, but I would make myself find something nice to say about each person. Soon, I was doing it without thinking. Then, I was doing to the girl in the mirror. I would notice how my long legs did look good in those pants, how I might be pear-shaped, but I have a nice waist. How pretty my eyes look when I wear blue.

What about you? Do you make cruel remarks to the girl in the mirror, or treat her with the understanding and respect you’d show your best friend?

Thanks for use of photo by Rachel Montiel