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The lies I tell myself

tell me no lies I so wish I could stand here (or sit) and tell you that I don’t lie.

Except that I generally don’t.

To other people.

But I lie to myself ALL the time.

Which is odd because the immediate reaction to a lie from myself should be an indignant, “Oh, no you don’t, Missy…come back here and tell me the whole truth and nothing but the truth!”

[I think it's an inner battle between Trixie and Grace. Grace tries to get me to do what I'm supposed to do and Trixie sabotages every attempt.]

It has gotten to the point where I even KNOW I’m lying and just don’t give a rat’s patootie.

Some of the humdingers are:

  • I WILL lose 20/40/52 pounds.  Trixie’s voice in my head: No, you won’t…you’re just saying that you want to…and, sure, you’ll craft some elaborate exercise and diet plan, but you won’t actually follow through and do it. It’s too hard. It requires giving up Trader Joe’s Jo Jo’s and eating nothing but rabbit food. You don’t want THAT kind of life, do you?
  • I WILL save my next raise. For an entire year. Trixie’s voice in my head: No, you won’t…you’re just saying that you want to…once that money hits the direct deposit on the checking account, you’ll be out buying new clothes or more perennials or something…being responsible with money isn’t your strong suit, Sister. 
  • He can’t possibly want to date ME. Trixie’s voice in my head: You know that weight you wanted to lose? It’s in the way. What man in his right mind would want to date YOU? You’re better off here at home eating Jo Jo’s on the couch. 

Hey, Trixie — SHUT UP.

I know my historical pattern seems to mirror what you’re saying, but why can’t I change?

What’s stopping me?

Oh, I know — YOU. You’re a nagging doubt in my otherwise convinced mind. YOU. You’re the one who talks me into eating Jo Jo’s and spending money on yet another beautiful purple flower for around the front fountain. YOU. You’re the one who wants to hold me back from finding a really great guy because YOU are afraid. YOU are insecure. YOU are irresponsible.

Not me.

So, shut it, Sister.

Whew. I feel better! Thanks to Mama Kat for helping me put my inner brat in her place for a while.

mama kats writing workshop

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