Voices in my head.
I know. Typically a sign of crazy, right? I never got that though. I know other people have internal dialogue, don’t they? I admit to having two voices in my head. Me and Uber Me.
Me is, well, me. You know. This one. She’s imperfect. SHe’s sometimes lazy. She’s bad at diets. She lets the clothes sit in the washer too long. She has a taste for Justin Timberlake and questionable fiction. She’s me. Of course.
ANd then there is Uber Me. Uber Me is like me on ‘roids or something. She’s unfailingly perfect and a little snotty. Uber Me ALWAYS points out the obvious. She’s judgey too. Sometimes Uber Me is helpful, but she’s like that annoying person you’re stuck hanging out with because she’s friends with someone you like or married to someone you like.
Uber Me stands around with her hands on the hip as I dump soap into the washer to wash a load of clothes for the second time. She clicks her tongue when I have pop instead of water. We won’t even get into what she thinks about going a day without showering.
She complains when I use the Internet instead of doing something she deems more worthy; reading, sewing, knitting. She points out everything I do that takes me off the path of where I want to head, but oddly enough she’s not at the end of the path.
No one wants me to be Uber Me with me leading that pack. She’s well coiffed, skinny and scheduled to the hilt, but she’s constantly missing joy because there’s no way to stand like her with my hands on my hips and point out every single personal failing and still find time to be happy. They don’t really jive.