Mrs. Avoirdupois Explains it All for You: The Strategics of Self-Acceptance

Darlings, I must apologize for my execrable failure to comply with the one piddling bit of scheduling I have got for this guest spot on Miss Hanne's lovely blog.  I'd tell you all the tedious reasons that this post wasn't ready for you all yesterday on Tuesday the Eenth as it was meant to be, but that'd be tedious and tedium, my pets, is simply not what the doctor ordered for the marvelous likes of my Chubbelinas.  So let us take it as writ that I am positively prostrate with contrition and that I shall do my utmost to make sure that this doesn't happen again, and move along, shall we?  Wonderful.

Each fall as we begin a new year here at Miss Hanne's Academy for Wayward Girls, our new crop of Plumplings discovers that we at the Academy have a somewhat different approach to things than that to which they may be accustomed.  At Miss Hanne's, we strive to live up to our motto, the fine Ciceronian phrase "alterius qui non sit suus esse potesti" — let no one be another's who can be his own – and to teach our girls to do the same.

 

 

 

One part of this that I stress in my classroom is the effort we all must make to present ourselves to the world in such a way that we, and not others, retain a maximum of control and flexibility in terms of our own image and reputation.

At Miss Hanne's, we do not accomplish this, as others often do, by cowering fearfully in the face of what others might think.  If we are to be our own people, it will simply not do to let others control us with the puppet-strings of intimidation.

How, then, to negotiate the fact that the world of other people is, alas, not always the benign and loving place we would like it to be?  How shall we conduct ourselves so that we go through life already well defended against those whom we meet who are not always ready to act with compassion and loving kindness, to put others first,  to forgive easily, to embody  the sturdy virtue of tolerance, or even to hold a door for someone whose hands are full?

Most importantly, how do we accomplish this without feeling as if we have hamstrung ourselves in one way or another?  It is no good to have a sterling reputation if the task of keeping it makes us feel as if we have painted ourselves into a corner.  It is worse than useless if we have achieved whatever control we have over our own image by means of such superhuman over-control and preposterous glossiness that people begin watching hawkishly — as we so often see the media do with those whom it raises up for the pleasure of destroying them later — so that they may pounce viciously upon the first sign of human frailty.

No, no, this will never do.  If we are to be ourselves we must be capable at all times of being human.  And if we are not to belong to others, we must have some sense of strategy with regard to remaining our best selves and our own selves.

I concede, Plumplings, that this a not a simple task.   But fear not.  You are destined for the task, and you are more than equal to it.

Part of how you will achieve this great work is through the expedient and extremely useful medium of self-acceptance.

The soignee and determined Mrs. Franklin Delano Roosevelt is reputed to have said some years ago, "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent."  This is a sweeping statement, and one with which one might perhaps take legitimate issue — other people surely can be sufficiently ghastly that one feels all sorts of things one would rather not — and yet it contains a kernel of truth upon which one can build an empire.

To wit:

The more you are able to accept yourself as you are, including whatever faults you have or merely believe others might perceive you to possess, the less others' perceptions of you are likely to represent magnetic fields which can force the needle of your life's compass to swing to and fro.

If you are plain rather than pretty, for instance, and you accept your plainness, then you need not spend much time or energy worrying about trying to be physically unplain.  You can accept that prettiness is largely an accident of birth, and nothing much to do with the actual person, but that being an interesting and dynamic and productive human being who is a joy to behold by virtue of being who they are is an achievement that speaks volumes about an individual.

To be sure, even the sturdiest soul might have — and Plumplings, I do not mind admitting that I myself have done this — the occasional wistful moment of thinking "Ah, if only I had been born lovely instead of brilliant!"

Yet this cannot trouble a self-accepting soul for long, for at the core of self-acceptance is the realization that what exists is already sufficient and good.  Before long, off you toddle, still plain perhaps, but when push comes to shove, none the worse off for being who you are… and since who one is is all one has to work with in any case, one may as well allow that who one is is actually fairly fabulous and has its own particular array of benefits, no matter how odd or even unsatisfying they may sometimes seem in the wacky little hall-of-mirrors inside one's own complicated little head.

This is all the more important because of what it allows you to do in your interactions with others.  The bad you do to yourself is the exact measure of the evil you will allow others to do to you.  To act or speak with public self-hatred is to hand others live ammunition with which they may, at their whim, manipulate you, force you to react to them, and make you miserable.

Why, Plumplings, would a person do this?  As you have no doubt learned in your time on this earth, people are perfectly capable of coming up with ways to be repulsively nasty to you without any assistance whatsoever.  Why in Heaven's name would you consider doing this repugnant job for them?

It is madness, darlings, sheerest madness.  Moreover, it is rude.  We learn early on that we ought not speak ill of others, particularly not those who are unable to defend themselves.  We know full well that a mouthful of venom spewed into a room chills even the warmest of conversations and makes tense and wary those who had been relishing the relaxing reassurance of companionship.  What we must learn is that it is no less so when the only person into whom we sink our slanderous fangs is ourself.

As I tell my pupils: if you wouldn't allow someone else to say it about your best friend, you shouldn't allow yourself to say it about you.

This applies doubly when the self-loathing is disguised as a sociable ritual.  Modern culture here in America has developed a lamentable tendency to encourage — particularly among women, who must of course be kept in their place if misogyny is to continue to rule the day as it has for so long — the recitation of litanies of putative sins as a form of social bonding.

I know you are familiar with this.  Let me give an example of a typical conversation, based on one I overheard not too long ago:

"Oh, I'm just so lazy and disgusting," one begins, "I hadn't even lost the five pounds I gained on vacation and here I am, telling myself it's okay if I skip Hot Yoga again so I can go to Estelle's birthday party and eat cake!"

"Oh, I know what you mean, Gladys," says another.  "I swear I have Seafood Disease.  I see food, and I eat it! It's just terrible.  And I hardly exercise at all, these days, I'm just such a wimp about the hot weather I stay home in the air conditioning like a big fat lump!"

This friendly chat is, in reality, not merely a fiesta of self-flagellation that would make a Carthusian blush, it is also a veritable police state's worth of nasty, punitive insults, threats, and behavior policing.  It is an all too typical pas de deux of self-loathing one-downswomanship, a shameful display of absent gratitude and the inability to resist the deeply ingrained teaching that women should never be allowed to feel good about themselves.  And should either Gladys or her friend be so inclined later on, they have pockets full of ammunition with which to be cruel to one another… or behind each other's backs.

Let us allow ourselves to imagine how this conversation might've sounded were Gladys and her friend more self-accepting, more gracious, and less ready to offer up steaming heaps of self-loathing as penance for the sin of being female and having bodies.

"I'm playing hookey from yoga class tonight," Gladys might begin, with a gleeful grin.  "Do you remember Estelle?  She's having a birthday party.  I lead a charmed life — we just got back from a vacation where we ate like kings, and now I get to go eat cake instead of sweating half to death while I try to wrap my ankles around my ears."

"Estelle from the food co-op?" her friend might reply.  "Yes, I remember her.  Be sure to tell her I say happy birthday.  I've got an air-conditioned movie night ahead of me.  If it's gonna be so hot I don't want to leave the house, I figure I might as well make some popcorn and make the best of it!"

Not only is this pleasanter and more civil, one is left with the impression of two women with an infectious appreciation for their fortunate, full, and happy lives.  They seem dynamic and resourceful, the kind of people who are likely to be enjoyable to be around even if all they're doing is hanging out at home in the air conditioning because it's too hot out for comfort.  They are their own people, talking about their lives, clearly on their own individual and confident courses.

And did you notice?  There are no unexploded grenades lying around to be picked up, no cheap shots waiting to be taken. Gladys and her friend's self-acceptance — acknowledging the skipped yoga class without bemoaning it, embracing the self-indulgence and pleasure of good vacations and birthday cake, taking it in stride that a homey evening of air-conditioning is nicer than being uncomfortably hot — is at the center of it all.

Now, Chubbelinas, do not be discouraged if you cannot always manage this.  It is difficult to resist the siren song of Doing The Things Everyone Expects of you in social situations.  It is hard to break the habits of a lifetime, no matter how dysfunctional or rude one later discovers them to be.  Particularly when one is, in fact, having a moment of self-loathing and genuinely feels that one is about as worthwhile and desirable as a big red pimple on the southbound end of a northbound warthog, it is altogether too easy to give in to the temptation to have a good old-fashioned bash at one's self.  It is a temptation that is even easier to give in to when one has friends one can trust to leap to one's defense with "no, no, don't say that, you're lovely and wonderful" and suchlike. (Speaking of tugging on other people's strings…)

Simply do your best.  Do your best not to give away free ammunition.  Do your best to accept that you are the creature you are, and that in this moment, that is all you can be and there is no use worrying about whatever it is that, in this moment, you are not.  Do your best to be as kind and as positive in speaking of yourself as you would want other people to be in speaking of your best friend.

Most of all, do your best to belong to yourself… even at times when you can't help thinking that you're only doing it because no one else would want you.  It's worth it, Plumplings, and so are you.

 

Mrs. Clarence L. Avoirdupois is the Very Senior Lecturer in Deportment at Miss Hanne's Academy for Extremely Wayward Girls.  She answers etiquette questions and issues philosophical pronouncements regarding all matters corpulent each Tuesday the Eenth.  Queries may be directed to Mrs. Avoirdupois via the comments section in this blog or at her Twitter page.