Alex:  Warning!! I’m about to vent… Have you ever had someone you care about question every choice you make? I do and it’s going to stop. Right here, right now. Are you really wearing those shoes? Yes, I am. It’s my opinion that matters. You can guide me, but you can’t walk the path for me. When you constantly state your opinion you’re not letting me form my own. They become your thoughts and your wants. Not mine. The worst part is that you’ll still love me even if I don’t change my shoes, but I change them to make you happy. Now, I realize that I’m actually making us both unhappy by changing them because I start to become someone I’m not. I start to become someone I think you think I should be. So enough with the petty comments. The only opinion that matters is my own. I am wearing whatever the bleep I want and you’re just going to have to deal with it.
Nik:  Ooh, that sucks. Been there. I think those feelings come with growing up. Post-college, I had a boyfriend who thought I should wear my hair a certain way and dress a certain way… I probably should’ve been offended, but to be honest I found the psychology behind it too entertaining. I liked thinking about why he made those requests of me. It broadened my view, but it also made my sense of self stronger when I had to resist someone else’s opinion. It almost forced me to find myself faster and be really confident in the choices I made. I still like hearing other people’s opinions because I like the possibility of expanding my outlook, my ideas, etc., but it depends on my mood. You have to know me well enough to know if it’s a good time to tell me what you think about my hair. Somedays I’ll be open to the conversation, somedays I’ll call you fat and your face ugly. My inner lioness gets defensive every now and then. And I know it may sound pathetic that I ever let anyone tell me what to wear or how to be, but it helped prepare me for the writers room. Really. You’ve got a million opinions and you’ve got to be willing to share yours confidently, while being totally open to other people’s ideas. It gets personal in ‘the room’ and people get sensitive and I can’t think of anything that prepared me more than the ex who hated when I wore nail polish.  Look at me now Ex, a different color on each hand.  Boo-ya.