Me vs. Stupid Me - An Epic Battle

Why is it when we decide to do something stupid, we say to ourselves, “This is really stupid” and then move forward and do the deed anyway?

 Last week, although I knew it was a really bad idea, in a moment of pure frustration, laziness, and a false sense of invincibility, I decided to cut my own bangs….took the scissors to my face and started chopping away. Convincing myself that at forty-six, I must have some basic skills in this arena and should be able to accomplish the removal of a few hairs dangling annoyingly in my line of vision; the plan sounded full-proof, simply cut and move aside. The second just before I began the chopping, a tiny little voice erupted in my mind; it was ticked and yelled, “What the heck? Are you four? Why are you cutting your own bangs? You know you are going to look like Alfalfa when you are throughwith this! You will be so embarrassed! Stop this madness!!! (Those of you who do not know who Alfalfa is….well, picture of said bangs attached)

Yet, alas, a bigger, meaner voice told the little voice of reason to cram it, and I proceeded to cut my own bangs. I looked like Alfalfa for a week before I could get into my hairdresser, who of course, was cheesed off and told me if I did it again she would come to my home and take away all the sharp objects.

This event led me to ponder about why we do the stupid things we do. Who is that other voice in my head that says, “Sure, I think you should sled down a ski hill on a McDonald’s tray, a fantastic plan! Or, hey, if you take only one diaper to the mall, that baby will not have more than one poopy blow out!” Upon further reflection, it is a voice that I am certain is attempting to kill me, or at best, publicly shame me at every opportunity. She is evil! Yesterday, she convinced me that if I eat twenty-seven of the bite-sized tiny candy bars left over from Halloween, it actually only equals a single, normal-sized candy bar. Why just this morning, the dark lady tried to change my order from a healthy wheat bagel to a giant frosting-covered cinnamon roll. Now that I think about it, the evil voice has been with me, speaking ideas to me, during my entire life.

At six years old, she told me I could turn my bike handle 180 degrees and the rear of the bike would magically flip around. I have a permanent bump on my nose from that exemplary decision.

At ten years old, the voice encouraged me to push Lisa Felmon on the playground, assuring that although she was ten times larger than my scrawny butt, she would not be able to run that fast….not so much.

At fifteen, she told me that just because the boy I liked was dating seven other girls at the same time, he really liked me best. Again, not so much.

At nineteen, she told me moving to California would result in a lucrative career in Ocean Exploration. Well, I am NOT writing this story about my newest discovery of a deep-sea organism that I am naming after myself, so there you go.

At twenty-five, she tried to get me to schedule my wedding during hunting season. (This voice still tries to schedule various family functions during October and November, it will not relent!)

At thirty, a perm would make my thin, fine, hair explode into such wonder I would look just like Madonna. I have never, nor shall ever, resemble Madonna.

Sadly, this voice has not given up, although I am older. It seems to be that the life-long, epic battle of me vs. stupid me, shall continue on….who will subsist? I am not willing to place big money on me at this time. I just went back to munching on my teeny, tiny M&M’s…..Did you know that if you eat 375 tiny M&M’s, they equal only one normal-sized bag of M&M’s?