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Posts Tagged ‘self-image’

BETTE MIDLER LYRICS

“I’m Beautiful”

“That’s it, baby! When you got it, flaunt it, flaunt it!”

“This is the Divine Miss M
and I’m here to share with you some rare
and stimulating insight into my cosmic fabulosity.
It’s really very simple. I smiply believe with all my heart:”

I’m beautiful, I’m beautiful, I’m beautiful, dammit!
I’m beautiful, I’m beautiful, I’m beautiful, dammit!
I’m beautiful, so beautiful, I’m beautiful, dammit!
I’m beautiful, I’m beautiful, I’m beautiful, dammit!

“Go away, little girl,” they used to say.
“Hey, you’re too fat, baby, you can’t play.”
“Hold on, miss thing, what you trying to do?
You know you’re too wack to be in our school.”

Too wack, too smart, too fast, too fine,
too loud, too tough, too too divine.
I said you don’t belong. You don’t belong.
Too loud, too big, too much to bear,
too bold, too brash, too prone to swear.
I heard that song for much too long.

Ain’t this my sun? Ain’t this my moon?
Ain’t this my world to be who I choose?
Ain’t this my song? Ain’t this my movie?
Ain’t this my world? I know I can do it.

I’m not too short, I’m not too tall,
I’m not too big, I’m not too small.
Ooh, don’t lemme start lovin’ myself!
Ooh, don’t lemme start lovin’ myself!
I’m not too white, I’m not too black,
I’m not too this, I’m not too that.
Ooh, don’t lemme start lovin’ myself!
Ooh, don’t lemme start lovin’ myself!

I’m beautiful, I’m beautiful, I’m beautiful, dammit!
I’m beautiful, I’m beautiful, I’m beautiful, dammit!

It’s time to call it what it is. Don’t play the naming game.
Become what you were born to be and be it unashamed.
“Go away, little boy,” I can hear them say,
“Everybody on the block says they think you’re gay.
Hold on, my friend, do you think we’re blind?
Take a look at yourself. You’re not our kind.”

Too black, too white, too short, too tall,
too big, too green, too red, too small.
I said you don’t belong. You don’t belong.
Too black, too white, too short, too tall,
too blue, too green, too red, too small.
I heard that song for much to long.

Ain’t this my sun? Ain’t this my moon?
Ain’t this my world to be who I choose?
Ain’t this my song? Ain’t this my movie?
Ain’t this my world? I know I can do it.

People always ask me,
“Miss M, how did you get so far
on so little?” Shut up!
Well, I woke up one morning,
flossed my teeth and decided,
“Damn, I’m fierce!” You look good!
You can be just like me! A goddess? Yeah!
Don’t just pussy foot around and sit on your assets.
Unleash your ferocity upon an unsuspecting world.
Rise up and repeat after me: “I’m beautiful!”

I’m beautiful, I’m beautiful, I’m beautiful!
Can you say that?
I’m beautiful, I’m beautiful, I’m beautiful!
I don’t hear you!
I’m beautiful, I’m beautiful, I’m beautiful!
Louder!
I’m beautiful, I’m beautiful, I’m beautiful!
Hey!

That’s it, baby, when you got it, flaunt it, flaunt it!

Aaaaaah!
Ain’t this my sun? My sun! Ain’t this my moon? My moon!
Ain’t this my world to be who I choose?
Ain’t this our song? Ain’t this our song?
Ain’t this our movie? Ain’t this our movie?
Ain’t this our world to be who we choose?

I’m not too short, I’m not too tall,
I’m not too big, I’m not too small.
Ooh, don’t lemme start lovin’ myself!
Ooh, don’t lemme start lovin’ myself!
I’m not too white, I’m not too black,
I’m not too this, I’m not too that.
Ooh, don’t lemme start lovin’ myself!
Ooh, don’t lemme start lovin’ myself!
I’m beautiful, dammit!

[ http://www.azlyrics.com ]

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Chapter 7: Head Trip

I am a student of human nature. I have a Master’s degree in psychology, so it makes sense that what goes on between the ears is fascinating to me. But like most professional students of human nature, the fascination comes from a desire to sort out the craziness in my own head. We professionals just like to do it the long way, by pretending to help others!

The thing that makes humans different from animals is the special ability to be at war with ourselves, and the entire discipline of psychology is built around understanding this war.

Last month I got a glimpse of the war I was fighting inside my own head, trying to keep my conflicting imperatives alive:

Be as small as you can, don’t take up space

vs.

Stand tall and don’t be ashamed, step into your full power.

That kind of conflict will make you crazy in no time, but for me, since it was all under the surface, it just created a perpetual suffering of the self. So I studied psychology in order to reduce the suffering of others. Brilliant.

However. Along with the ability to be at war inside ourselves, humans are also gifted with the drive to move toward integration. Despite our best efforts to the contrary, there are forces at work inside the psyche that move us, however feebly sometimes, toward the truth. Toward wholeness and health. It’s stunning.

My feeble effort came in the form of a narrative, a personal story which I could tell myself in order to organize my sense of self, articulate my dilemma, and give myself a problem to work on in perpetuity, without actually having to change.

I suffered a lot, that’s for sure. Suffering is just evidence of how hard I’m trying to heal, I thought. Here I am, stuck in this unfortunate body, for which I’ve suffered way too much shame. Shame has impaired my ability to be who I truly am, I thought. I lack the confidence to really succeed the way I want to, the way I feel I’m destined to. See, I feel made for greatness, but I keep defeating myself with my lack of confidence and self-esteem. That comes from a childhood of not really being seen, you know. Of being a child in an adult’s body. Of having an absent mother and a more absent father. Blah, blah, blah, you get the picture.

Then a month ago I had a conversation with a man who said he didn’t believe my story. The one about feeling so small and powerless on the inside that I was afraid I would shrink away and ultimately fail to step into my destiny, whatever it may be, on the outside. “I’m not buying it,” he said.

Excuse me?

“Your body is telling a different story. And your body doesn’t lie. You could never shrink away and fail, you’re not built that way,” he said with the confidence of 25 years of experience as a psychologist, yogi, body worker, and life coach.

Well shit.

No one ever refused to buy my story before. I’m very good at telling it, selling it everywhere I go. I consider it the height of compassionate respect to honor a person’s story, and the biggest betrayal not to. Especially when it comes to me. How dare you not believe my story? And who says it’s a story anyway? It’s the truth, dammit.

And yet. By the end of the day, pieces of myself came together into one coherent piece of magic, one I feel at a loss to describe. I almost heard the clap, the two pieces of myself finally coming together. Wham. Whole. Just like that.

My story was just a story I devised to keep the conflict from resolving itself. But my body knew the real score. It kept shouting to the world – don’t believe the bullshit she’s telling you! She’s a strong and powerful and beautiful woman. Don’t believe her self-doubt. Don’t buy her smallness.

But I couldn’t give up the dream of someday waking up to be Jana Gerken. – someone who could be cared for, someone who could be free to play, someone who wouldn’t have to suffer the loneliness of being too big for the world.

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