The Reliability Of Your Inner Voice Should Be Suspect

As most of you know I’m a writer.  Today I am going to share with you something all writers experience.  It’s called the ‘inner editor’.

If you’re not a writer you might not understand writing and editing are not the same thing.  Not even close.

The writer is creative.

The editor is corrective and sometimes bent on destructive.  Self-editing especially while writing is also highly unreliable.

For the writer to truly edit her work she needs distance from the project and also knows to never attempt editing when she’s feeling emotional, discouraged, or just plain bitchy.  Good writers know self-editing is a minefield and just how often the inner critic is a liar.

Oh gee, doesn’t that sound like the inner ‘fat’ person who hasn’t quite caught up to the outer thinner person?

Of course!

Self Criticism

Last week it was raining so I took the opportunity to try on my favorite blazer.  I have had it around 10 years.  For the last eight or years so I have only been able to wear it a handful of times so I was beyond thrilled when it fit.  It was even loose in the arms.  Of course, I had to take a selfie.

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As proud as I was to be standing there in all my blazer fitting glory, when my daughter came over a few hours later and said…

“Mom…with your arms down…it’s actually too big for you…look see…right there,” as she pointed to my waist.

My brain had a hissy fit.

It’s not too big.

It can’t be too big.

She’s just being nice.

She’s lying.

“Oh well thanks for being so generous sweetie.”

“No mom, I’m serious.”

I couldn’t handle it.  I did not know how to handle it.  The former bigger girl within wasn’t ready to listen.

Then a few days later I tried on a pair of mesh-y capri workout pants.  You know that fabric that is used for basketball shorts?  It’s that heavier material not the thinner yoga type.  Anyway, they’re this lovely shade of yellow-orange that’s almost fluorescent.

“Honey, BE HONEST…Can you see my cellulite?”

“Babe, I don’t know how to tell you this but your cellulite is almost gone?”

“Shut up…it is not.”

“Honey…listen to me…it is almost gone and no what’s left is not showing.”

I rolled my eyes convinced my sweet hubs was lying to me.

And the inner bigger girl went on with the smack talk about my lumpy, bumpy, bulbous thighs.

Just so you know they were over 31 inches EACH when I started my journey and they were riddled with cellulite.  These are not ‘cottage cheese’ these are ‘cheese curd’ bumps and lumps.  And, I have a life-long hatred for them.

For him to say those curds were almost gone was inconceivable.

Two days later I slid those same unforgiving capris on and checked my backside in the mirror.

“Well whattaya know,” I said aloud while I stood there flummoxed and blinking in disbelief.

The backs of my legs are about 75-percent smoother.  It’s really unbelievable.  It feels more out-of-body than real.  The front side still has a ways to go but the point is I couldn’t see, I couldn’t feel, I couldn’t appreciate my daughter’s unsolicited assessment or my hubs solicited one because my inner bigger self has not caught up to my outer thinner self.

I need to tell that inner big girl to shut up in the same way I tell my inner editor to shut up.  I can get rather mean to my inner editor and feel okay about it because I have confidence in my writing ability.

My inner big girl…umm…she’s a bit more fragile.  Okay, a lot more.  Who am I trying to kid.  That part of me still has a lot of healing to do.

So today I decided to slide on my white jeans.  I’ve been toting them around longer than the blazer.  But, these white jeans are much more sacred.

You see these are the jeans I was wearing the day I found out my divorce attorney had absconded with my $1,000 retainer, moved to out of state without telling me, and would not be in court to represent me.  I had to fire him over the phone in open court and agree to represent myself if I wanted to get divorced that day.  After two years of my children’s father dragging it out and being an ass I needed to be done right then and there.  These jeans and I went to work rebuffing each of my ex’s objections to the terms of our divorce.

These jeans are part of one of the most badass days of my life.

I kicked my ex-husband’s attorney’s ass wearing these jeans.

I’m talking to the point the judge’s mouth kept gaping in disbelief.

I might not be fully feeling the outward changes to my body but I’m definitely remembering the fierceness of that day.

I am basking in the strength of the white-jean-wearing woman…while I’m reminding myself that 33+ pounds in 43 days is also badass.

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And…

The truth is to keep from sabotaging my progress I have to help my inner critic catch up to where my body is today…breathing and trying to be present.

Hello non-scale victory!!!

I am wearing white jeans with a waist band loose enough that fresh out of the dryer I could still fit my whole fist in the gap…HELL YAAAAASSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!

My inner critic can shut up today.

Her opinions are not valid.

 

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