The Gift of Insecurity

Lately I have been battling with a gift that I was given in my childhood that I would like to call:

INSECURITY

IT is a gorgeous bombshell of a woman, dressed to the nines wearing the gorgeous 5″ spiked heels I can no longer wear because of a running injury.

IT is my good little girl who is about 6 years old with those amazing pigtails and perfectly clean dress who is telling me that if we don’t live up to our professors standards we will fail and then we will be NOTHING…NOTHING I TELL YOU!

IT is that quiet voice that very nearly inaudibly whispers…you suck, you can’t do this, you are stupid, you are a fake, a phony, a big fat (yes fat) lie of a human.

Why do I call this a gift?  Because when my insecurity rears its ugly monster of a head I get to talk to it and tell it where I think it should go.

I am still a bombshell…cause I am rockin’ these curves like no other.  Don’t believe me?  Just ask my husband!

I am a damn genius.  I didn’t get into this PhD program because I am stupid. So, it is ok to send what I got to my professors because they don’t want me to fail.  They want me to succeed because when I succeed I make them look good and they all want to look good!

I don’t suck…I am amazing.

I am not stupid…I am brilliant.

I am not fake…I am the realest I have ever been.

I am not fat…I am a big, voluptuous, curve of a woman.

So take that INSECURITY…and SHOVE IT!

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