The danger of the internal monologue within the changing room of life

My nine-year old recently decided she was going to “Gok Wan” me and become my personal stylist, in the attempt to help me spend my birthday money. The deal was I had to try on everything she gave me, whilst I (thankfully) had the final say on purchase.

So we set off one Tuesday morning into town. I had given her my brief: smart, casual clothes with a total budget of £100. It was fun, seeing her pick up things that I wouldn’t usually try on, in colours that clashed, and price tags that smarted!

We trekked and wrestled into the changing rooms (two kids, one buggy and me aren’t a great fit) and the great “fashion show” started. On, off, on, off; then she hit me with the question “So, do you like it Mummy, will you buy it?”

And there it was, that knee-jerk, internal monologue; “it’s too short, it’s too tight, I look enormous”.

There was my bright eyed, innocent little girl, waiting for my decision. I had to stop, to filter the rationale why I wasn’t going to buy that dress.

I won’t lie to you, I temporarily had the wind taken out of me. How could I let my gorgeous little girl hear what was trampling through my head. I composed myself and the filtered version came out:

“I don’t like how the material feels“

I spent the rest of the day mulling it over. I worked very hard to not let my little girl hear that internal, default internal monologue; so why did I let myself speak to myself that way? Even for those brief seconds before the stronger, confident “grown up” arrived to quash the self-criticism?

It got me thinking, how many of us are carrying around these self-destructive monologues that are going unchecked? Those that don’t have the “little girl in the changing room” to consider. What are we stopping ourselves doing, having or being, by allowing doubt, fear or twisted view of the world into our head space?

Ultimately, if you wouldn’t let a loved one hear what you are saying, why are you saying it to yourself at all?