Tuesday, 31 May 2011

Self-Help - A Highway To Madness, Especially When Coupled With Two Noses.

God, self-help books are rubbish - no wonder everyone who reads them is barking mad. I've only read half of mine, and I'm going round the bend already.

I'm standing in the hallway this morning, staring into the full-length mirror, and saying my affirmations, when I notice that I've got a huge spot on the end of my nose.

It's so big, it almost eclipses the nose itself, and makes a complete nonsense of positive statements. Especially this one:

"I still look sexy, and attractive."

Honestly, what good does lying to yourself do? I do not look sexy, or attractive. I look as if I have two noses - and I've got toothpaste down the front of my top. But dogged is my middle name, so I take a deep breath, then carry on:

"I still look sexy and attractive."

I say it a bit louder this time, but still not loud enough to drown out the voice that's laughing like a drain somewhere in my consciousness.

According to the wretched book, this is just my inner critic, whose advice is apparently best ignored. (I suspect it's the book's advice that's best ignored, but I suppose I'd better give it the benefit of the doubt.)

"I still look sexy, and - "

"You actually look a prat," says the voice - so loud that I nearly jump out of my skin.

This must be what it's like for Mr Humphries, contending with all these competing voices. If I'm not careful, I'll end up attacking myself next time I can't resist touching my spot just to check how big it is.

"What the hell are you doing, Mum?" says Josh, appearing behind me and peering at my reflection in the mirror.

"Did you just say I looked a prat?" I say.

"Yes," he says. "Because you do."

"Oh, thank God," I say, which I don't think is the response that Josh is expecting, given how quickly he ducks out of the way.

When he straightens up, having not been slapped around the head, he looks at me as if I am mad, while I breathe a sigh of relief that I am definitely not.

Not that that belief lasts long, thanks to Greg, who's lying on the floor laughing as I type. He wasn't supposed to hear my other affirmation:

"I am highly-valued at my place of work."


  1. About time you started posting again, you lollygagger!

    Good to have you back Moll.

    Nick H.

  2. http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?defid=1459701&term=Lollygagger

  3. Just googled it because I had no idea either ....

    The art of being extremely slow at everything; sloth like; moving a small distance in a long time; not quick in motion; tardy; to delay; ...

    I think I'm one too ;)

  4. But you much valued in your "place of blog" Molly :-)