The Beast

In years gone by I could safely say that I had very low self-esteem. I covered this well - sometimes well enough to be accused of arrogance. But beneath the banter and sarcasm was your average teenage self-hating ball of fear and self-loathing.

But recently, thanks to some amazing women and a life changing Euroventure, I've begun to...well... like myself. I know it sounds cheesy, and I rather avoid writing blogs-about-my-feelings, but something must be said.

You see this newfound confidence has an unfortunate side effect. One brought on by that old foe, alcohol. We shall call this side-effect... The Beast.

The Beast thinks she is all that. She firmly believes she is the sassiest woman at the table and that everyone wants to hear what she has to say. While this may sometimes be true...it's never flattering to show that you know it!

The Beast is also an incorrigible flirt. Yes, in The Beast's mind, fat is IN this season and every woman in the bar wants her. The Beast thought it appropriate to go boozing last night with a bunch of co-workers. She regaled her audience of public servants with her political opinions, and tales of amateur theatre success. Humility was nowhere to be found. And she flirted. Appallingly.

This is not good. Because do you know what isn't attractive? The Beast. The lovely little Maeve that I have come to appreciate in recent months bears little resemblance to The Beast, who speaks like a trashbag, spills her wine on you, steals your belongings for giggles and hits on straight women. The very qualities that gave me to confidence to create The Beast, if you will, go out the window after the sixth sauvignon blanc... ok the fourth...

So what to do about The Beast? Drinking less could be a start... Or maybe I need to bring myself down a peg, remember all that teenage angst and rediscover my flaws. C'mon kids, insult me, bitch to me, tell me you hate me!

Help me slay The Beast!

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