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I recently read an interesting article about self-talk and the things we say to ourselves every day. Apparently, therapists generally agree that if Hubs or a friend spoke to us the way we speak to ourselves, we'd kick them to the curb right freaking now (okay, I paraphrased).

The writer pointed out that since the person we spend the most time with every day is, well, us, that's where most of our personal feedback comes from. A co-worker who remarks, "Gee, that skirt is a little tight for the office, don't you think?" doesn't do near as much damage to our self-esteem as an all-day inner mantra, repeatedly chanting to ourselves, "Yep, you're still fat."

The brain believes what it's told, so it's critical that we become aware of the constant barrage of judgmental, belittling "truths" that we unconsciously tell ourselves all day long. In short, we should never talk to ourselves in a way we'd never tolerate from someone else. We need to be our own biggest cheerleaders. Our own best friends.

She suggested an experiment where you journal your conversations with yourself over the course of a day, to see what kind of a friend you are to you. Here's what I found. (Meet my inner voice, "BBF," or Bad Best Friend):

1. The morning weigh-in:

Me: "Staying down where it should. This isn't so hard."

BBF: "Yeah, since you haven't eaten dinner in a week. You won't last. If you had that kind of control, you wouldn't have been a Teletubby in the first place. Same time tomorrow, Porkchop."

2. Out of the shower, naked inspection:

Me: "Not bad for 57. With the right clothes, a push-em-up bra and Spanx, I could still work it."

BBF: "You're kidding, right? Then what's that on the back of your thighs? See it, right between your legs? That's it, bend over and look upside down between your thighs, and tell me what you see. Yep, it's your sagging butt cheeks. They evidently thought your boobs looked lonely, so they joined them on the Gravity Express. Still feel like 'working it'?"

3. Blow-drying my hair:

Me (holding up blow dryer): "My triceps need a little toning. Maybe I'll get one of those Shake Weights."

BBF: "Yeah, that'll work. If you're 12. That wobbling skin under your arms is called 'turkey waddle,' and it's only sexy on poultry. Now you'll be wearing long sleeves in July, just like all the other middle-aged grandmothers in the park."

4. Make-up:

Me: "My skin looks pretty good. Must be good genes. A little tinted moisturizer to smooth it out, and I'm ready to go."

BBF: "Who are you kidding?? You've had an eye job and Botox, and you still have a L.A. road map around your eyes. And is that a chin hair I see??"

5. Getting dressed:

Me: "This dress would look better over Spanx, but it's too hot, so not today. I look fine."

BBF: "Yeah, if your definition of 'fine' is a middle-aged woman with ass-jiggle when she's standing still. No Spanx, no dress, lady."

6. Career:

Me: "Got to get to work. But someday I'm going to make a living by writing."

BBF: "Dream on, baby. So far, you've only impressed your mother and an ex-boyfriend from high school, class of 1974. And if you ever do actually write a book, your mother is going to expect a free copy. Don't quit your day job, you hack."

7. Dieting:

Me: "I'm going to lose two pounds this week. I'm committed. Where's the produce department?"

BBF: "Yeah, how would you know? You haven't eaten a vegetable in, like, 57 years. And you might want to take the econo-size box of Milk Duds, three frozen pizzas, Brown Cow Diet (seriously??) ice cream sandwiches, Doritos Fire Chips, two cans of bean dip, and the six bottles of wine out of your cart. You on a diet?? Bahahahaha!"

8. Shopping:

Me: "That bikini in the boutique window is so cute. I remember those days."

BBF: "Oh, please. You couldn't wear that in high school. Why do you think your parents always called you the 'wholesome one'? Get a clue, Blondie. That wasn't a compliment."

Me: "Fine, but look at that rockin' black leather jacket. Ooh, I could definitely do that."

BBF: "Absolutely, if you're going for aging, rock band groupie. Why don't you just buy a leopard print miniskirt and a T-shirt that says 'I used to be hot'?"

9. Grandkids:

Me: "I wish we lived closer to the kids so I could see them more often."

BBF: "Yeah, I'll bet that's what they're thinking, too. 'Gee, we wish Mom was here every day, so she could be all up our business and give us lots of advice on how we spend our money and how to raise our kids. That would be way cool.'"

10. Out and About:

Me: "That delightful young man behind the counter is smiling at me."

BBF: (Snort) "Uh, look behind you. See that hot 20-something blonde gazelle in the cropped top? I'm betting it was her, not you. Besides, you could be that boy's mother and not have been a child bride, if you get my drift. Guys that flirt with you aren't called 'guys.' They're called 'seniors' and they carry AARP cards, not backpacks."

11. Dinner:

Me: "No, I'm not going to eat dinner tonight. If I have more than a Fruit Loop and a Diet Coke after 5 p.m., my weight goes up. But I'm disciplined. I'll pass tonight."

BBF: "Ha. By the second glass of wine, you'll be hitting the Pringles hard. Admit defeat now, snarf down that pizza, and kick yourself in the morning, like every morning, Chubs."

12. Writing:

Me: "Time to create a brand-new post. I can do this. I'm funny. Really, I am."

BBF: "Maybe you were funny at one time, but that ship has sailed. You have no funny stories left. You've told them all. Face it. You're not funny anymore. And you're 57. Get out now. You need a new craft, and you're not getting any younger."

It seems that my inner best friend is kind of a bitch.

That night, I sent her a text. "Dear Bad Best Friend, You know this friendship thing? You suck at it. So get on down the road with your judgmental, mean-girl self, because I'm dumping your ass. When you can say "Good morning, Gorgeous" without rolling your eyes and snorting, we'll discuss reconciliation possibilities. Until then, I will no longer consult you on any matters pertaining to my worth."

I feel more confident already. And now if you'll excuse me, there's a fabulous black leather jacket that's calling my name.

- Vikki Claflin

Oregon writer Vikki Claflin writes the popular humor blog, Laugh Lines. Two recent pieces have been published in Life Well Blogged: Parenting Gag Reels - Hilarious Writes and Wrongs: Take 26. In 2014, she received a BlogHer Voice of the Year award for humor.