BAD GIRL: You Won't Believe The Words That Came Out Of My Mouth

Admission: I haven’t mastered cashflow. I receive money pretty consistently (every Friday, plus a few other times a month). But it’s been my experience that it’s never ‘enough.’ I’ve spent several years mastering Broke Math; for those who don’t know, Broke Math is when you’re trying to figure out which bill you can pay when. And I have remained available for my bank account to go negative every month. (UGH.)

Today, after days of my bank account being negative and having expected to receive a check yesterday, I heard that I wouldn’t be able to pick up the check until tomorrow. I felt so mad. Mad at myself for being in this situation. Mad that yet again someone else’s cashflow was affecting my own. And then the anger softened as I realized that this one more day didn’t make a huge difference in my situation. Mostly past the anger I just felt disappointed in myself and of course I found a bunch of reasons to be disappointed.

At home, I ate a little bit of a salad left from yesterday and still hungry, I decided to take a nap. It was a long-ass nap (like many of mine are) and I woke up at one point and chose to go back to sleep. Several hours after I first laid down I woke up.

After a little while, my boyfriend came in to lay on the bed and watch Cheers (actually so funny and much more enjoyable than I thought). I laid back down next to him.

“Why don’t you make yourself that gluten-free mac ‘n’ cheese?” He must have asked me like five times.

“I don’t feel like it,” I said.

He asked again about me eating.

And the most awful words popped out of my mouth faster than I knew what I was thinking.

“I’m a bad girl and I don’t deserve food.”

I FELT small as I said it. Childish. A little girl who knew she needed to be punished.

And it’s SO WEIRD that these words came out of my mouth. I don’t remember hearing them when I was a little girl. I don’t remember a single time my parents ever said “Off to bed without dinner for you!”


I still don’t know and, more to the point, it probably doesn’t matter *where* it came from.

Chris said something to me in response, again about eating, and I told him I needed five minutes to cry over what just came *out* of my mouth.

And I did. I cried like I’ve not cried in a long time. I still have some tears in my eyes as I write this. But after sobbing for perhaps an actual 5 minutes, I felt myself feeling much better. Clearer. Freer.

We never really stop surprising ourselves, do we?

As for changing the story, I’m thinking I’ll start with a shift to: “Bad girls get lobster.”