Confessions of a Not-So-Supermodel by Brooklyn E. Lindsey

Author:Brooklyn E. Lindsey
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Array
Publisher: Zondervan/youth Specialties

HURTFUL WORDS

There’s a really mean game that girls play sometimes that I call, “Let’s Tell Each Other the Truth.” I don’t know where the game came from or who invented it, but it usually starts when one girl say something like this: “How about you tell me the truth, and I’ll tell you the truth, and we’ll both promise not to get mad or hurt. Okay?” (You know where this is going, don’t you?)

Most of the time, this game is started by a girl who has a burning desire to share a piece of her mind with another girl but doesn’t want to come off as being a jerk. The idea makes sense to her. If she gets everyone to agree that they’ll all tell “the truth” about each other, then the focus won’t be on her or the comment she is dying to make. I know it sounds complicated—but if you’ve ever been in one of these underhanded girl wars, you know what I’m talking about. If you haven’t experienced this kind of direct, raw, and brutal truth, be grateful you’ve been spared.

One of the biggest flaws in this game is that people always get hurt—no matter how much everyone might promise not to. The second flaw…well, why would any of us want to expose ourselves to the brutality of group judgment? It’s sad, but I know why we let ourselves get ambushed from time to time. It’s because we are so curious about what other people really think of us.

So one night when I was at camp, the girls I was with started playing this game. All the girls were going around the room saying things to one another. Finally, one girl decided to say something to me. Keep in mind you get mixed feelings in a game like this. You know that you’re probably not going to like what you hear, but you feel honored that someone has something to say to you. These types of observations say you are visible in the social realm. Even if the goal of the comment it is to tick you off or annoy you somehow, at least you exist. At the same time, you can also feel this thing get stuck in your throat as you wait for the upcoming “honesty”…I think it’s called dread. Whatever it is, it’s stuck right there in your esophagus causing you to blink more than normal and shift in your seat.

So I sat there with that feeling for a few moments. And then my truth-teller finally came forth with what she wanted to say: “Brook, I think you are really unapproachable.”

Silence.

I immediately began thinking about how weird it was for her to say that, since I knew and talked with just about everyone at the camp. But I wanted to hear more. (Curiosity again set me up for the attack.) So I asked, “Why do you think that?”

“Well, it’s just, you have this air about you that comes off as you thinking you are better than everyone else.

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