Yes, I am a self-professed narcissist.
When trying to find a name for my blog, I had no hesitation when I picked this one…no, that’s not true, for about two seconds it was called Narcissism 101, but when I googled that, it brought up a bunch of websites about an actual disorder for narcissism.
A disorder! Self-absorption is a disorder?
The funny thing is that when I was creating this blog, I was in the midst of training and competing in figure competitions.
For those of you who aren’t familiar with this world, essentially it means that you eat, breathe, and sleep thoughts of your body.
Two hour training workouts at the gym every day.
Pic from fitnessuncovered.co.uk
Pic from gettyimages.com
Pic from http://www.tabletmag.com/life-and-religion/45297/seeing-things/
Glee at the sight of sugar.
Pic from fotolia.com
…I won’t go on, but suffice it to say that this particular brand of fitness world is one where you have to be a narcissist in order to succeed.
Every second of the day is devoted to meals, training, and Diet Pepsi consumption.
Your family wants to make Pillsbury cinnamon buns after supper?
Are you fucken kidding me?
You will lose your fucken mind the second those bad boys are being taken out of the oven. And I’m not talking, “Oh, maybe I’ll have a little piece, just this little piece here on the corner.”
No, I’m talking, “Nobody touch the fucken cinnamon buns or you’ll lose an arm!”
Your husband wants to take you out for a romantic supper?
You’re like, “You hate me, don’t you? Why don’t you just leave then! Go ahead! Leave me!…oh you don’t hate me? Taking me out for dinner when all I can eat is lettuce and chicken breast is supposed to make me happy? Are you smoking crack? Do I look like I want to be happy?”
And a bunch of food-obsessed, self-absorbed figure competitors all in the same room is even more dangerous.
Once a week, my trainers offered “posing classes;” an opportunity to learn how to walk out on stage, how to stand, how to clench your butt-cheeks for optimal butt striation.
In reality, this “posing class” was an opportunity for us crazy, starving people to stare at ourselves in a mirror for an hour, comparing abs and asses.
In retrospect, I bet we were a hilarious sight to see, all of us, staring intently at ourselves in the mirror, flexing and feigning indifference at the perfect body next to ours with the breast implants and the darker fake tan.
But back then, when I was the one flexing and feigning indifference, that hour in front of that mirror was exhausting, not only because I had to flex and pose, flex and pose, flex and pose, but also because I barely had enough energy to swallow my saliva, never mind having to act perky while pretending that I was happy that Little Miss Fake Boobies next to me had dropped four more pounds.
…where was I?…or right, narcissism…
So all of this to say that the other day, when one of the moms at the hockey arena referred to one of the coaches as a narcissist, she said it like it was a bad thing…
I was like, “What’s wrong with that?”
But there was something wrong because we were making fun of the narcissistic coach.
And then that got me thinking about the name of my blog.
And that got me thinking that narcissism doesn’t have to be a bad thing.
As long as I’m the narcissist in question.
And my diet consists of carbs and candy.