Having a Mind Bully

In today's post I'm going to get a little personal all up in here because I feel like I need to get this off my chest, air it all out and I feel like I can be honest with you lot. If you can't be honest on your blog, when can you be?

The other day I took myself off to Belfast to do some Christmas shopping where I perused a lot of the shops, going into this one and that one at my leisure. I went to all the usual suspects; Boots, The Disney Store, HMV and Paperchase. All of my faves and even took a little not-so-sneaky caramelatte in Caffe Nero. As I drifted down Donegal Place, Royal Avenue and around the streets spreading out from Victoria Square, I found myself drifting into some shops that I don't usually find myself in and looking at clothes. New Look is my bread and butter but I went into River Island, TopShop and Mango and H&M. I usually love a little whizz round in this places just to see what's what for the craic and I always end up drooling over their accessories. (Santa has got an H&M bag for me for Christmas, sssh, don't tell that I know).

But something happens whenever I go into anywhere that deals with fashion.

"That wouldn't suit me," I tell myself. "I couldn't wear that."

I'm sure that I'm not the first shopper to utter those words internally and I doubt that I'll be the last. But for me, it is rather consuming. In Mango, my heart was leaping with joy at the many gorgeous articles of clothing that were before my eyes. They were definitely my cup of tea with their cut, texture and pure sophisticated look. My inner Sharon Raydor/Mary McDonnell was begging me to touch this blazer, that blouse and that skirt and this dress. Yet in my head, I couldn't bring myself to dangle such beauty before myself when I know that I would be doing the item a great dis-service by forcing my body into it, forever disfiguring it. 'I don't deserve it,' I would say to myself. Looking at these gorgeous clothes, I felt like I was twice the size that I physically am. I'm not the slimmest person and people do compliment me on my figure but I have this image of what I look like in my head and it isn't what I see in the mirror.

Whenever I'm getting myself ready to go out, whether or not I'm going shopping, running errands or going for a night out, I think that I actually look quite decent whenever I look in the mirror. I think that I look quite cute and that my outfit is nice enough. When I went to Belfast I thought that I look good in my cream knit hat and gloves, plum coat, jeans and converse style shoes. My hair was cooperating with my and the layers looked cute draped over the collar. But whenever I get out the door and I catch my reflection in anything reflective, I feel like I've instantly gained 2 stone and turned 3 shades paler.

Does anyone else feel like that?

I have an image in my head of how I think that I look. The mental image that I have in my head is my First Year high school portrait. I was a little bit on the chubby side, I had short hair that I was growing out, glasses and crooked teeth with a bottle green uniform that was too big because it had to last me seven years. Blazers are expensive, people. Whenever I'm anywhere, that is how I think I look. My dirty blonde hair is pulled back into a hair clamp, I'm smiling with my crooked teeth, my sallow cheeks are pudgey and my uniform drowns me. That is how I always see myself when I'm away from a proper mirror. Then when I catch my reflection properly and I'm actually taken aback by how unlike that mental image I look; I have long blonde hair, porcelain skin, and a nice fitted coat on. But then that only lasts for about twenty seconds when it wears off then it's back to the mental image of First Year Me. It sucks, I tell you. I cannot get away from that mental image that I have burned into my mind. That moment when the switch resets feels like it punches my fragile self-confidence in the face and then chokes it into submission. Can I un-burn this mental image?

I look at all the people walking around and I'm admiring their outfits and wishing that I could have the confidence to wear whatever they're wearing. I wish that I could layer clothes and look adorable without looking like Violet Beauregarde après the fateful chewing gum. I know that I can do that and that the only thing stopping me is me. I should just wear what I want and not give a fiddler's what anyone else thinks, right? Sadly, my self-consciousness is returning to crippling levels that I hesitate in lifting that blazer that my eyes are begging me to buy or that skirt that has yet to be worn in my wardrobe. 

To feel better about myself I know that I can exercise to tone up and lose weight and whatever else have you. I can exercise at home, right? Well, I have the tiniest bedroom where I can barely see the floor. I have a single path from the bed to the door with barely enough room to sit in the floor to do my make-up. You could barely swing a cat in here! What about the living room? It is occupied all the waking hours of the day by somebody. There is always somebody coming and going into the house and through the living room and watching something on that TV because it has the channels that everyone wants. It's a nightmare so there goes that idea out the window. Even the other living room is occupado due to a through floor lift/elevator. Gym? It's baltic outside (Hola, Winter! You suck!) and the idea of being cold to get to the gym to become drenched in hot sweat and then go out into the cold again isn't very motivating. Excuses, excuses. I know. You can see my predicament...

How can I get past this mental roundabout that my self-confidence is determined to keep me on? Have any of you overcome this or experienced anything like this?

** Post image found on Pinterest here.