While talking with some friends, we discussed how we sometimes talk to ourselves when we are alone. One person laughed and said, “That’s fine, as long as you don’t answer yourself.” I quietly admitted that I do answer myself. A dear friend smiled at me, gently rested her hand on mine and told me that I was lucky, because that meant I had a fairy godmother looking after me.
Now, I’m not sure I believe in fairy godmothers, but if I do have one, she is either very new to the job (and didn’t read the fairy godmother manual) or is a comedian. Some of the responses to my self-talk make me question my fairy godmother or my sanity.
For example, when I ask myself why I just ate four of the six donuts I purchased for my family, a little voice says, “That is OK. Just go buy six more donuts and eat one. No one will ever know.” So, I did and now I am looking for the antacids.
Or, the next morning, I start looking for my walking shoes and tell myself that I need to go for that mile walk around the neighborhood to get rid of some of those excess calories from the donut overload. The fairy godmother responded, in my head, that I will be happier to just forget the walking shoes, put on some elastic-waisted pants and sit down and finish another chapter in “June’s Journey.” Who am I to contradict my fairy godmother, but my antacid bottle is getting low.
What finally put me over the edge was when I wondered to myself if I should just trim my fly-away hair with my little manicure scissors before I head out the door to meet my blind date. I heard that little voice say, “Yes, do it.” So I did it. Unfortunately my blind date was not blind.
I am going to ask my dear friend if she knows how I can put in a request for a new fairy godmother.
