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Writer's pictureJulie Lokun

STOP JUDGING ME GIRL

It is judgment day.


Stop it. Stop it right now. Stop the judgment. Stop the addictive comparisons to the six-pack -abbed, Martha -Stewart-like, rocket scientist who is sitting next to you. I know, right at this very moment you are inspecting the failures of my day. My hair is a mess, the bags under my eyes are wretched and I just don't care about my raggidy maxi dress I wore twice this week. Franky-I am not surprised by your judgy-infused observations-- because I have heard them before. I internalize what you say. For example, I heard when you said, why can't she get a pair of jeans that don't accentuate her muffin top? And I know you have asked --why do her kids run around like crazy animals? You have judged by thinking, why does she wear that bright, bright pink lipstick--to carpool? #urbandecay. Girlfriend, you observe, you digest, you manipulate and you make satirical comments to those who will listen. It is likely your mother would be nodding her head in disapproval-citing the Golden Rule. And, girls (and guys) let me tell you now- the fundamental goodness of me is erased by this practice of judging.




However, the most destructive element of my makeshift scenario is that I am the one judging me. I am repulsed by the reflection in the mirror.


Sometimes I feel that I am drowning. I am drowning in what other people think. And it has changed me at a cellular level. Believe it on not, I can pinpoint exactly where this self-inflicted torture began. It began in 1984. Yep. The realest year in this gals existence. Prior to '84 I was pretty much a blissful girl, rocking out to Michael Jackson's Thriller, bopping around the playground, loving mom's after school Nestle Tollhouse cookies (which reminds me I need to apologize to my kids as their after school memories revolve around half cooked, pre-made Kroger's cookie dough cookies). I digress, let us get back to 1984. Prior to this year I enjoyed a time that was acne free, brace face free and baby- fat -free. And when 1984 hit- I became acutely aware of that I was not good enough. Not only was I reminded of this by classmates, my brain connected and accepted these adolescent proclamations.


1984 was the year my self -esteem was under attack from goofy, adolescent boys telling me I am fat, I am ugly, I am a loser. Girls wouldn't sit next to me at the lunch table. Girls laughed at me because I was just not that the cute, pixie perfect, Ked's wearing, bow on top of my head cheerleader. And to be fair--they were right. Looking back and looking at this tattered 6th grade picture , I see a girl with self-styled, uneven bangs and a funky Ogilve home perm. The outfit combo speaks for itself. However, I also see a little girl that is trying so hard to smile. She is a freckle faced, innocent girl struggling to find out who she wants to be. And really, this little 11 year old, just wants to be liked.




The Message is CLEAR? (I know you can relate. Statiscally 95% ((I think 100%)) of women have repetitive negative thoughts about their bodies daily.)


 

At the time when your self esteem and hormones collided- you also received external messages that grew into self-disgust. And for some, this self hate led to battles with anorexia, drug use or the welcoming of bad partners into your lives. I as lucky enough to have a good support system that embedded a moral compass into my DNA. And I am grateful that my flirtation with esteem numbing antics were kept to a minimum. The Miriam -Webster dictionary defines judgment as "the process of forming an opinion or evaluation by discerning and comparing". Mr. Miriam and Mr. Webster make the definition seems so rational and ordinary. However, the definition becomes extraordinary when it is applied to self judgment. This self inflicted judgment is constant audio loop in our heads that can create an internal upheaval. This upheaval can destroy date-nights, demolish irreplaceable moments with your children and crush your soul. I am begging you to end this misery as of today. I am hereby sending you a cease and desist letter.

At this very second you should know that we all do this to ourselves at one time or another. Our magnificent brains filter this human experience in so many ways-adjusting to our individualistic awesomeness. So embrace your quirkiness! Learn from your failed attempt to assemble a cherry, butter cream trifle. And please girlfriend- cherish your uniquely formed, hard working, life supporting body. I want you to take pen to paper and write down every time you think a bad thought about yourself. Look at it when the paper is full of scribbled, bad commentaries and rip it to shreds. HEY YOU--yes you. Life is too short. Let's not lose sight of what is truly important. Cellulite should not be at the top of your list when you have bigger, BADASS things to do. #realmecampaign #comparisonisthethiefofjoy #lifecoaching #selfcare #selflove #rise #empower

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