The other me is confident. She likes the way she looks, she feels fit and healthy and she makes great choices.
This me is always overweight, always tired, questions herself constantly and never feels like she makes the right choices. Even when forced to make snap decisions she questions them. She doesn’t sleep, she overthinks and she fuels her body with crazy amounts of carbs, caffeine and wine to compensate.
Other me eats vegetables and drinks freshly squeezed vegetable extracts with ginger and lemon.
This me wakes up every morning determined to be better. In the words of Scarlett O’Hara; “Tomorrow is another day.” It’s never too late to be the other me, the good me, the virtuous me.
Other me washes her face every night and cleanses it with nurturing organic oils and always ensures she is in bed by 10 so that her body gets a good reset overnight.
This me is eating corn chips, drinking red wine and surfing social media until 1am and even then can’t bring herself to be a big girl and put herself to bed.
The truth is that at low points in my life, which are often, I fantasize about “Other Me” and the “Sliding Doors” effect of what if? What if I lived my live purely, and constantly made good decisions for myself? What if I weighed myself every day to be accountable and I ate lean if the scales went up a little bit? What if I, instead of putting everyone else first, actually just put me first for a change?
And there it is.
I can’t change the type of person I am, any more than Other Me can.
I have been Other Me quite a few times in my 46 years. I have eaten healthy and I have prioritized myself. I have forgone outings with friends to bars because I was abstaining from alcohol. I’ve ordered sparkling water and a salad when I’ve wanted to order bubbles and a burger. And I can tell you that even when I did all of those things I still thought Other Me had it going on better than me. It didn’t give me the sense of satisfaction I thought it would.
I look at photos of times when I was my thinnest and I see sad eyes. I see sad eyes because I know in my heart that those times were the not the highlights that I thought they would be. In my quest for perfection I had ignored friends and connections. I had deprived myself of things I enjoyed and I was still plagued with the gnawing sense of insecurity. That sense that no matter what choices I make they will never be enough and so I stopped. I stopped trying to be Other Me until I got so far away from Other Me that I found myself returning, searching, yearning for that feeling of "acceptance"..
The truth is it’s not Other Me’s fault and it’s not This Me’s fault. They are both me. At my darkest times my mental picture of myself is so unflattering I am surprised I even walk out the door. I look at photos of Other Me and I see a completely different human. I yearn for it, I wish I was her and yet a few years down the track I see a photo of That me and it’s shocking to see that it’s also... me. I’m not sure what I am expecting but when I am searching for This me in the face, I see Other me staring back.
This isn’t just about weight. This is about choices. It’s about identity.
It’s seeing myself as others see me; confident, secure, clever (questionable), and happy. It’s seeing that no matter what life throws at me that it’s the “Me” that is consistent. It’s the “Me” that matters to those who love me. It’s the “Me” that has endured.
I admire Other Me but I am learning to love This Me.
