Annie is pretty.
Annie has the long eyelashes I want. She also has those Angelina lips that men can’t resist and those lips compliment her perfect chin. Her raven hair is silky, long, and it doesn’t hold a single curl. She doesn’t need to dye her hair because it would only distract you from her beautiful face. Along with her angel like facial features, her body also looks like it was molded by angels. Her arms are nicely toned just enough to seem elegant. Her arms match her delicate lady like hands and her nail polish is never chipped. Don’t get me started on her flat belly and modest chest! It must be nice to never have to wear a bra every time you leave the house. She was blessed with birthing hips that sway in the most seductive way possible that accompany her apple bottom. All her pants are skin tight and she never has love handles. She effortlessly looks flawless. Beyonce had Annie in mind when she made that song.
Annie is mean.
Annie is confident, strong, intelligent, and beautifully talented. Annie is also a bitch. She constantly pokes fun at me and is always there to whisper hurtful things: “That car is going to hit you,” “You know, they really aren’t your friends, they just feel sorry for you,” “You’re shitty writer,” “You will be your husband’s downfall,” “Everyone is staring at you because you weren’t invited,” “Why can’t you act your age?” “You’re pathetic,” “No one likes your dogs.” Annie has a tendency of sticking around me when I don’t want her there. Every time I’m in the car, she hops in the backseat wearing her black band shirt, fitted jeans, and eye liner on point. She likes to make moves on my husband so I can feel small and unloved. She likes my cooking so she leaves me alone. At least I have her beat in that department. Not today, bitch! She takes every opportunity to let me know I am doing something wrong: “Why are you wearing that? Are you 12? That doesn’t fit. Why don’t you go for a run? Oh, that’s right because everyone will laugh at chubs attempting to run!”
Annie likes to tag along with me whenever I decide to go out with friends. She takes her time to break me down. Every time, it’s always the same. She leaves me alone when I’ve built up courage to dance or talk to someone and then she slides over my shoulder. “They don’t really want you here and you look ridiculous. Everyone is staring at you because you don’t fit in.” Every day, Annie becomes more creative with her insults. She is never shy to speak. “You’re a shitty dog owner. Your dogs hate you. You’re a failure at everything. Why does your face look like that? Your jokes are stupid and you’re not funny.”
Annie is weak.
Go fuck yourself, Annie. Yesterday, I left the house and took care of my neighbors pets. On Friday, I drove myself to my appointment and hung out with friends that night to play games. On Thursday, I rewarded myself by staying in by choice. On Wednesday, Tuesday, Monday, and Sunday I had walked over 20 miles just to be out of the house and active. I did not do this alone. I walked my dogs and hung out with my friends. Within 2 months, I have seen about 4 movies, traveled to a new city I have never heard of before, visited a new beach, went to several other beaches, went on a tour, gave a real attempt at swimming which turned my hair green, and played at a casino and lost money. Even though I was scared, my hair turned green, and I didn’t have Lady Luck with me, the feeling of accomplishment gave me the push I needed. Annie wasn’t invited to any of these trips and she stayed where she belonged: away. Annie thrives on my fears and only exists when I am unsure of myself.
Annie is real.
Annie only started to make her presence known last winter of 2015. She has been nothing but a burden that I try to bury. I’ve been hesitant on introducing her to new people but the way I see it is once they meet her, they will understand why I do the things I do. Some people don’t get her, others pretend she’s not real, and then there is that small group that make it their mission to squash that bitch. To that group, thank you for always putting Annie in her place. She is a bully and a nuisance but every day I leave my home to walk my dogs, to take the trash out, to check the car, pick up the mail, or enjoy the sun, I know I can be stronger than her.
Meet Annie, my anxiety.