Her wee guy tells her to have another glass of wine! have another glass of wine! one more glass of wine! To help you relax! (She has to get up for work at 6am tomorrow morning.) (Her office is a 25 mile drive from her home.)
Your wee guy tells you to just take off the ******! She’s on the pill and it’ll feel better for both of you! You can’t remember when you were last tested for STDs and you’re so drunk that you can’t even remember her name.
The wee guy on my shoulder sits with his legs crossed, slit-eyed, and instructs: “If you’re going to have a Brie toastie for lunch, you must use low calorie bread. Less than 70kcal per slice. No butter. No jam. No pesto. No spread. You don’t deserve to taste.”
The ‘opportunity cost’ of tasty cheese is bread like cardboard: brittle like my bones and dry like my hair and lacking. Which is exactly how I feel about myself sometimes.
I used to turn my head towards him and say: “okay, pal, I’ll do exactly as you say!” Today I said I should put pesto on my Brie toastie I have a bit of weight still to restore and I really like pesto!
I like myself sometimes.
So I had a Brie and pesto toastie for lunch and moved on with my day.
This is reference to the 'separation' technique often used in eating disorder recovery, where patients are often asked to engage in a dialogue between their 'healthy voice' and 'eating disorder voice'.