Restraining Order Please....

I was born a Siamese Twin.  You know, the kind that are conjoined.  And look something like this...

Okay, maybe not literally.  But ever since I can remember, I have had this nasty twin following me so closely we were pretty much conjoined.  Fortunately, around the time I turned maybe 20, we were separated, so she doesn't bug me as much any more.  She's definitely the mean twin.  She loves to make my life miserable.  Even though we're separated, there are days she likes to come visit.  With a vengeance.  Here are some of her favourite things to do when she comes to visit.

When I get up and ready for the day, my lovely twin likes to shout how awful everything I put on looks.  She gets right up in my face when I peer in the mirror and and points out all my blemishes.  Without fail, she'll tell me my makeup sucks, that my clothes don't match, and that I look like I picked my outfit from a garbage can.  Don't even get me started about how she criticizes my hair!  On the days she comes around, she usually makes me late.  It's because I try so hard to please her as I get ready.  And then because I'm late, I'm flustered.  And this only makes her laugh and want more.

When I get to school and am surrounded by people, she likes to tell me that everyone around me is staring at me.  Or glaring at me.  And judging me.  And none of them like me.  And so I put my head down and look at the ground as I walk from class to class.  She makes me so nervous to talk to people, because according to her, they don't care what I have to say.  And because I believe her, I stay quiet and reserved and aloof to protect myself from these people that don't like me.

When lunch time rolls around, she reminds me how much I had for breakfast and that I should probably take things easy.  Not eating is a good size lunch in her opinion.  Or if I really messed up, she'll tell me there's no use in even trying to eat healthy, I've already blown it so I might as well consume as many calories as physically possible that day.  And in her opinion, it's best to eat in hiding.  That way no one will know how much I eat.  And I don't want people to know that because they'll probably think I'm fat or judge me for eating so much.  

When I go to class to write a test, she tells me that I have no chance.  She explains to me how I'm really not that smart and there is no use even trying.  Then she reminds me of everything I didn't study and all the time I wasted and begins to chisel away at any shred of confidence I had going into that test.  When I have the test laying in front of me, she breaths down my neck, telling me I don't know the answer before I've even had the chance to finish reading the question.

When I go to the gym, she stands over me with a whip.  First off, she won't let me leave the change room without reminding me how bad I look.  Then she laughs hysterically the entire time I workout, because my legs and arms jiggle.  She loves to point that out and shriek with glee, "THAT'S FAT!!"  If I don't work out long enough, she tells me that the workout wasn't even worth it, that I shouldn't have even tried.

When I date someone, she loves to point out all the other gorgeous girls my boyfriend would probably be happier with.  She constantly reminds me how things will probably never work out and that there is no use even getting comfortable.  She tells me the only reason a guy would ever date me is so he can enjoy the physical side of a relationship.  She tortures me with lectures on how I don't do enough to appreciate my boyfriend and then contradicts herself by yelling at me for doing too much and being too forward.

When I get into bed at the end of the day, she loves to give her own snide little play-by-play of all the epic failures I acquired in a single day.  She then tells me I have so much to look forward to tomorrow, because I'll probably do it all again.  

According to her, no one cares.  

According to her, nothing I do is good enough.  

According to her, I might as well give up.

Oh!  Forgive me for not telling you her name.  She doesn't actually have one now that I think of it.  If anything, you could call her "Insecurities".

To be honest, I'm so glad I don't have to live with her everyday like I used to.  Although I love to catch up with old friends, she is the one person I would be happy to completely eliminate from my life.  Which is why I would like a restraining order.  Please.

You'd think that being 22 years old would entitle you to being free of insecurities.  If you're younger than that, I'm afraid to tell you that it doesn't.  Your own little conjoined twin is going to hang around as close as you let them for as long as they can.  It's up to you to take the scalpel and cut them off and then it's still up to you to chase them away with a baseball bat when they come for a visit.  Insecurities sure loves me, but oh how I hate her.