We’ve all heard the cliche that we critique in others what we most hate about ourselves. And heaven knows we project onto others what we are feeling and won’t own.
SO this is a fun-house-mirror story of how I judged someone else for judging someone else, even when I knew the person was judging something they were blind to, while being blind to my own judgments. Got that? Good.
I was at the gym this week. I walked in and noticed an acquaintance, and my first thought was, “WHOA! He has doubled in size. What a stomach.” Never mind that I struggle with my weight which yo-yos regularly, and that I am generally straddling the line between objective Body Mass Index measures of “Obese” and “1.5 Pounds from Obese.” That’s not the point. Or is it?
So Wimbledon was on, and Mr. “He Swallowed a Beachball” started critiquing Serena Williams’ outfit, named the “Strawberries and Cream.” His exact quote was “That sure is a big strawberry,” drawing my attention for the first time to the fact that her under-the-skirt bloomers were strawberry red whereas the dress was cream colored (cutesy but effective on Nike’s part, I think).
First off, don’t mess with the Williams sisters. They are my girls.
Second, men who critique women’s derrieres are not my favorite specimen.
Third, who was he kidding… Serena is too big? Serena of the fit body and fierce tennis? Leave her alone.
Fourth, how blind am I? Critiquing him, critiquing her. Ugh.
A friend and I used to laughingly say, “We act like life is a talent show, and we are the judges.”
So again, I’m thinking of good old Matthew 7:2 and of how often I fail to see myself accurately: “With what measure you judge, you will be judged.” I am in trouble!