Lately I’ve been reading various posts on blogs about being judged: how women are judged for their appearance, how we are judged for being overweight or for not measuring up in other ways.
When I read this stuff, part of me starts screaming “Build a freaken’ bridge…” So someone called you a fat cow in high school – who remembers those things? Who even cares about it years later? If I wanted to sit around bitching about it, I could trawl up some pretty awful shit that happened to me but you know what, most of the people who did that are now working in dead end jobs with their brains fried from smoking pot for the past 20 years or more. Karma’s a bitch, isn’t it.
But still I feel like I’m being judged at times. You know that voice in your head saying people think I look fat/stupid/ugly/whatever.
Who the hell are these mystical, magical people sitting around judging me anyway? Who’s standards am I trying to live up?
And, of course, the only person I find judging me is ME. In my head, there is a panel sitting around with score cards waiting for me to make a mistake but really I think most people are just a little too busy to take that on full time.
You might not know this from my blog, but I’m the most judgemental person ever. I’d never go up to strangers and tell them what I think – that’s just plain rude – but if I’m driving around, I’ll constantly make comments like “why the hell is she wearing that skirt… does she not realise how big her arse looks in that?”
In my defence, I’m usually right and people who have much better lives if they only had the benefit of my advice (LOL) but I do believe that the more we pass judgement on others, the harder we are on ourselves. It makes me wonder if I stopped with all the judgemental crap towards others, would I be more accepting of myself.
The hardest part, the part that makes this such a hard habit to break, and the thing that is rarely mentioned, is that critiquing other is awfully FUN. Sure it would be nice to be one of those angelic people who always see the best in others but come on, even if it’s checking out the worst dressed list in one of those glossy mags, we love to bitch.
Still I might try turning the judge-o-meter down a bit for a while and see what effect it has.