This might be a somewhat bizarre or temporary side effect of cognitive behavior therapy, but I’ve plum out gone girly. I was out shopping on Wednesday and caught myself looking at mascara!
No, I did not buy any… but I did wonder if the major difference between types was more or less the shape of the brush. I was in the makeup aisle to select another pink lipstick, my little reward for good behavior. (I’m trying different “low end” brands because I got tired of the lid falling off the Elizabeth Arden inside my purse.) This week, I picked Revlon’s “Gentlemen Prefer Pink” and I really like this lipstick, although the name is amusing. What gentleman prefers pink? Are they selling lipsticks or illusions?
I did buy Revlon’s BB Cream and a couple other girly things, then stopped to get my hair cut. I was going to walk down to the shoe store in the same plaza to see if they had any sweet boots on sale, but it was just too gosh darn cold.
This sudden interest in girly stuff has me baffled. Then it hit me, as I was washing my face like an old lady with cold cream, that I wasn’t even tempted to buy any of my old favorite binge foods. I walked right passed things without a thought, must less another silent internal battle of what has been a forty year war. Well, it wasn’t alway silent as I did cuss out that Little Debbie a few years back. Yes, out loud. People probably thought I was frikkin nuts but I had banned that bitch from my house. How dare she try to whisper at me?
The thing is… I had absolutely no interest, no temptation, no desire to even give a second glance. Oh, such sweet freedom and I didn’t even realize it until hours had passed. It still amazes me.
Thanks for reading!
I haven’t mentioned recovery for awhile so perhaps I should talk about that. I want to fire my shrink. Yes, I was supposed to go to my third cbt session ye around the first, but I called a week in advance and rescheduled for the end of the month.
If I don’t go back, he will think that I quit on myself and then he will write some bogus “professional opinion” in my permanent medical records. It is only five sessions, two down, three to go.
Even if I go, it looks like I’m going to have to shrink my own damn self. I’m not going to get into all that today. Let’s just say that my recovery is in the pink.
That’s pink as in pink lips and pink bingo dabbers and fun pink whatevers.
Pinks are my treats for good behavior, at least until I find the most perfect “signature shade” of pink lipstick for my everyday look and then I will move on to something else.
Yes, I like pink… it brings out my rosy, lol.
Today’s art was created from a lip print. Thanks for reading! And oh, btw… Happy Valentine’s Day!
I have come to the conclusion that cognitive behavior therapy is like anything else. To eat the fish, spit out the bones. If his suggestions do not work, then I must find what does, take the bull by the horns and own my own recovery.
So I gave myself a manicure, painting the nails “Petites #240 Hot Fushia” even though my fingernails are now short and neat like man nails. I did the toes to match.
Sounds stupid, but biting my nails again seems to be the only “behavior modification” replacing the behavior that I am trying to erradicate from my life so it is best to nip this right in the bud. I gave up biting my nails when I started smoking. Spent my teen years replacing one bad behavior with another, self medicating, and developing negative coping mechanisms.
Now I am 52 years old, have already dealt with “issues” that sparked the behavior in the first place, and still… it is hard to let go of what I do not need anymore.
So what am I so afraid of? Will the earth shatter if/when I stop trying to contain myself?
No… in fact, no one would even notice. I have spent most of my life trying to contain myself, to slide under the radar pretending to be normal. I can’t do it anymore… even this blog, to bee out loud, runs cross-grain to that pretend persona.
Part of it has to do with how we were raised. We grew up in glass houses, church parsonages, so it was deeply ingrained in us that whatever we do reflects on our parents. It is a cardinal sin to embarress your mother. There are people to this day who believe that “Nancy is so quiet.” Nancy is this… Nancy is that… very few people actually know me. Nancy is happiest when she is being her own self, not pretending to be some quiet little mouse of a woman fading off into a neutral background.
Oh… it is time to come out and play. I cannot contain myself anymore. Hot fushia pink nail polish on hands in fur trimmed fingerless gloves? Oh yeah, so me.
Recovery is me, too.