Can You Hear Me Whisper?
I like my eyes. Shhhhh. Please don’t tell. In fact, if you could hear me talking I would be whispering. Why would I whisper myself a compliment? Because it feels wrong to say it. It feels foreign to allow good things slip from my lips about yours truly. I have become so accustom to shouting criticism of myself and drowning out anything good, that to admit there is good feels wrong. But here’s the heart of the secret. I have it backwards.
All this time I’ve been holding the negative, my hands are too full to grab the positive. It’s what’s expected, isn’t it?
When someone says, “I love your hair!” the acceptable female response is, “Oh, I haven’t washed it in two days” or “I need a haircut so badly.”
When someone smiles at me it can’t just be a friendly greeting, surely it is because I have broccoli (or more likely chocolate) in my teeth or toilet paper stuck to my shoe.
When someone tells me I have beautiful eyes, the normal response would be to change the subject.
When did normal become dodging the good instead of saying thank you?
I’m trying to get back to normal, the real normal. The normal that says thank you and that doesn’t avoid buying a pair of pants because the number on the little tag on the inside that no one else can even see makes me cringe in disgust. The normal that can look in the mirror and see more beautiful things than ugly.
The normal that can say I like my eyes and not have to whisper.