Nobody believes me when I say, no really, you look good. They think I’m just being nice. But I don’t see the point of being mean. Even to myself. Especially to myself. If I can’t tell you that you look good, does that mean I can’t tell myself that I look good? Because I usually do, most mornings. I mean of course there’s those days that you just hate everything equally, yourself and your appearance included. But those are usually not the norm, and I know I’m doing it and I usually just try to make some joke about it so I don’t take it, or myself too seriously at that point. Usually in the form of a blog post.
Here’s the thing. If you keep talking about how much you hate things about yourself, then I’ll feel weird when I don’t participate in the conversation. See, I made a pact with myself a long time ago- I decided I’m not going to hate on myself. What’s the point? If I don’t like something, just change it. And if it can’t be changed, just live with it. It’s really not so bad. And hey, aren’t we told to appreciate what we’ve got? It’s a pretty good practice, turns out.
So really, you’d be doing me a HUGE favor if you stopped hating on yourself so I don’t have to seem like a dick when I don’t chime in and hate on myself.
If you need help, I can get you started on how you are probably really good looking. That’s usually what I see when I look out into the world. Lots of beautiful women who don’t see their own beauty. And it makes me so very sad.