Once upon a time there lived a Misfit and her Mini-Me.
Her Mini-Me, while only 9, appeared to follow suit.
She, too, felt unstoppable
She knew she was her own superhero:
Mini-Me loved her burgeoning muscles and would display them without being asked.
Our Misfit was pretty damn
Until she stumbled.
Until she fell into the abyss of a different sort of negative-talk.
Great googly moogly I look tired. I look like a grandma this morning!
(sunglasses hide the tireds.)
Or mumbling statements along the lines of:
Holy crapballs I’m old. I’m like a ninety year old right angle in the mornings!
this is EXACTLY how our story’s Misfit feels in early a.m. lately!
As a woman and a mother she’d never have whined I feel fat!! but she found herself lamenting My hips hurt. I feel a bazillion years old this morning! without a second thought.
She heard herself stating quite plainly to her Mini-Me upon climbing out of their beloved beanbag chair:
Wait. Wait. I’m not a spring chicken any more. MamaOld. This may take a while.
(whilst grunting and groaning for effect.)
One morning after some such I AGING! I CREAKY! remark Mini-Me turned to Mama and said:
Mama, I don’t want you to be old.
And, in a way reminiscent of the best John Hughes movie montages, all the old talk snippets our Misfit had uttered rushed back to her.
- Comments made in jest to a Mini-Me who didn’t yet ‘grasp’ the jesting.
- Comments made to Husband (in front of her mini) in effort to foster “we’re aging together!” camaraderie.
- Comments made about being or getting old said with humor, but damaging to little ears none-the-less.
In this moment all the pride our Misfit had possessed about never uttering the words diet, fat or good/bad-foods vanished.
All eclipsed by the accidental messages she’d been sending about anxiety/loss of self-love related to aging.
Anxiety and worry she didn’t feel, but that mattered not when they exited her mouth and found their way to little ears.
She planned to still do this when she was 80!
Once she became aware of the foible of old talk our Misfit noticed it everywhere.
She overheard the same interactions—mother/child—on the playground.
She eavesdropped on “old talk” between female strangers.
She still found herself entering into old talk conversations with friends—she was nowhere near perfect!
All of these scenarios led her to ponder:
As women make strides toward conquering fat talk must we, invariably, switch to a different form of negative self-speak?
And, as all good misfits do, she decided to bring her queries to you.
- Whether in your 20’s or decades past 40: have you found you’ve slipped into ‘old talk?’
- Have you discovered old-talk is the new *fat-talk* as a way for to women connect/relate?