Ego & Self Image

My ego went on a little roller coaster ride this week.

First I got a series of nice compliments at the new job -- from my boss, from the developer with whom I'm working most closely, and from two people at the main customer with whom I'm working. Since I was really worried I'd lost my mojo over the last five years, this was a much needed boost to say the least! At any rate, it's always nice to get feedback that you are doing a good job. My work-related confidence is growing exponentially every day.

Then Friday night went over to the Steele house for my favorite enchirritos. These are frozen Costco burritos smothered in cheese & sauce and cooked like enchiladas. Yum Yum. Thanks for the invite, John. My five-year-old nephew was sitting next to me at dinner and turned to me to say, "You know, Aunt Susan, you were a lot prettier when Jackson was born." Argh. Direct hit. Apparently, they had been looking at pictures and he's decided my hair and face were both prettier then -- apparently, my face has more "bumps" now. Man, what a blow. And, yes, my confidence in my attractiveness is low enough that these comments from a five-year-old hurt.

Later in the evening, he asked me to help him open the garage door to get his scooter. "I know you are old, Aunt Susan, but you are still pretty strong." Pow, another hit! This kid is seriously good at the back-handed complimented, isn't he?

Of course, I immediately looked for copies of the pics when I got home -- I was sure my sister emailed them, but I can't find them right now. I imagine that I look pretty close to exactly the same...... but I could be delusional. I'll have to find them and post one so you can be the judge.

Here's what I really think: I think we are all carrying around a picture in our head of what we look like and it's probably a really old picture. Mine is a school picture from when I was in sixth grade. I was very California blond, my hair was all feathered, my skin was clear, my eyes were huge and blue. I ran, played soccer, and was on the swim team, so my body was long, lean, and athletic (but you can't see it in the picture -- I just know).

There's a noticeable difference in the next year's school pic. In sixth grade, I was twelve -- that was the year we moved from Maryland to California, I started my period, I started smoking, I drank my first beer, I smoked my first joint (in Pizza Hut at a birthday party). So, by the seventh grade pic, I'm definitely a teenager, and a rebellious, unhealthy one at that. My hair is darker, my face has filled in, and I look noticeably less innocent.

Maybe I'm projecting things onto the pictures in my head that aren't really there. All my photo albums are in storage in Maryland, so I can't check. I'll have to see if Meg has copies of the pictures I'm thinking of. Maybe I'll scan & post them.

At any rate, today I'm feeling old, spotty, and unpretty all thanks to a five-year-old. That sucks. It's even worse to think that my self image is so fragile that these comments could make a difference, but they do. Blech.