Recently I’ve been thinking much on the things that people say. Last night, a gorgeous fitness goddess-looking woman said, “Excuse me, are you a dancer? I was admiring your graceful walk. And your body!” Last month, my sister said that I resemble an “anorexic body builder,” which, to my sister’s credit was intended as compliment, but to those who read and know the atrocity of anorexia, I know how insulting this statement can be. She also told me yesterday, “You’re f*cking skinny as sh*t.” #Compliment. Oh! And last week, two sexy-looking men in suits were staring at me! I walked away, and one followed, approaching closely, “Excuse me, miss, I just want you to know that we weren’t staring to be rude. We were just admiring your triceps.” Wow!
I like the things that I’m hearing, and it made me think back to the days of when I didn’t like what I heard. For instance, as a child, they called me a hairy dog. So I reacted by removing all of my body hair, even my big beautiful eyebrows, now something which I wish I had! But I killed the roots long ago, boo hoo. And, during a dance competition, the little cassette tape featuring the comments of the judges revealed their belief that I did not have a dancer’s body. Big upset to me. So I dieted. For a long damn time, 17 years worth of disordered eating. Also I can remember my dad oinking and mooing when I became fat in the mid 90s. He was being humorous, but, to a perfectionist, it meant that my dad thought I wasn’t perfect, and that was completely unacceptable to me, at the time. And, I remember, in 1990, hearing on the CB radio a truck driver commenting on a woman’s legs. He called them “cottage cheese legs,” so I have forever ever ever ever looked at mine and questioned on whether or not they resemble cottage cheese, which of course the answer was always yes. Until recently. Now I don’t question myself on the cottage cheese prospect whatsoever. Because whatever people say to me goes into one ear, out of the other, unless it’s something that I like to hear.
I guess I’m like a dog!
I’ve been documenting the cute things that people say about Gwendolyn. Last week, a beggar told me that she walks with her nose in the air. Which she does. Yesterday my divine groomer said, “Girlfriend you are the skinniest queen puggle on Earth!” Ha ha ha. People say negative shit, too, like, “Oh, she’s old!” For a millisecond, I want to punch them in the face, but then I look down and see my radiant girl glowing and smiling, and it bothers her not. So it bothers me not.
What’s the point of this post?
If I had a suggestion to a person experiencing their formative years, or even to those of you older humans who place value on negative feedback, it would be to not let it matter. And revel in the glory of the kind things that people say.